


Salt on the Mouth

by DarkBlue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bleur, Depression, F/F, F/M, Flonks, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Prompt Fic, Remus Died Tonks Lived, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBlue/pseuds/DarkBlue
Summary: "You could...be our third." (Bill x Fleur x Tonks) When Tonks is struggling with single parenthood, she's offered a temporary home in Shell Cottage. Only, no one really wants it to end.





	1. L'invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NachoDiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/gifts).



> For the FlonksFest on tumblr and AO3 during the month of August 2018.
> 
> The chapter mark is unknown at this point (thought it would be a one shot so ha), and the rating may change. Title taken from the chapter heading of one of my favorite books of all time: Goodnight Mr. Tom.

“She’s beautiful.” Fleur was flushed and happy, holding her daughter nestled in her arms. She was a mix of the best of Bill and Fleur; she had a coppery strawberry blonde fuzz covering her creamy tan skin. Her eyes were dark, muddy: an infant’s eyes. But they caught the light and glowed blue, just like both her parents’. She had one perfect mole, like the entire Weasley line of freckles had squeezed its way through the Veela genes of flawless skin to blossom, perfectly tiny and perfectly round, in the corner of her left eye, settled on one high cheekbone. It looked too perfect to even be real.

“Zank you,” said Fleur, who looked proud and not at all prone to disagree.

There were a great many people in the delivery ward of St. Mungo’s. It was the fourth floor, and Fleur’s room was overrun, but none of the mediwitches looked like they wanted to tell any veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts – today, on its first anniversary – to clear off.

Tonks was there, of course, in a corner with Teddy. He was sleeping on her shoulder. It was late in the evening, but Fleur had been so ecstatic that newly born Victoire be born on the anniversary, she had insisted everyone stay. Tonks was feeling very awkward and very overlooked. The person she wanted to talk to most was Charlie, who was her best friend because Charlie had lost a brother one year to the day.

Tonks had lost a husband. And a father. In the same year. It all seemed so unreal.

Remus had died today.

But Charlie was a first time uncle with his first niece. And he was crowded around with the rest of the Weasleys, his smile just as strained, just as grateful to be given something – anything – to think of. Much less to cherish and celebrate. Tonks could see George was weeping, but that wasn’t unusual.

George had spent three months in St. Mungo’s after last May. No one in the family faulted him. Looking at him was difficult. Not in the way looking at Bill was difficult; that you got used to it when the shock wore off. Not like losing a limb. It was difficult to look at George because it seemed someone had scooped out half his insides, leaving him walking with a wince, hunching over his ribs, perpetually carrying the invisible spear inside of him, heavy and ripping and painful. George attempting things like walking and breathing made Tonks feel like her own grief was something stupid. Something fake.

She sat, holding her son. She thought about giving birth to him. _Where is Remus?_ She had screamed. And after Teddy had been born, the long absence. _Where were you?_ She had asked him. Begged him. She had been so scared. Not of the war. But of the charge. Of the new title. Of being ‘Mum.’

_Sorry_ , Remus had murmured. _I lost my head_.

She breathed the little boy smell of Teddy’s clean hair, just starting to grow in for real. Not just baby fuzz, but beginning to hit his toddler spurt. She thought of Remus' dying moments clinically. Absently. Like a silent film.

Dolohov was far more terrifying than his actions were. His manic eyes with their wild light. The jet of a hex sent towards her. The slash of a heart that took Remus down in a crumpled heap, without even a whisper of warning that he wouldn't get up again. It was the same spell that had almost killed Hermione when she was sixteen. And she thought about the way her own curse had hit Dolohov in the temple. And how the light seemed to travel in through one and out the other, taking any light left in his eyes with it.

And then she was sitting by Remus quietly. Empty. Stunned and disbelieving. 

She had cried for him, in coming months. And she had cried for herself, of course. And for Teddy. And for the sheer relief and confusion and lost feelings of _he had been my husband._ For only a few scant months. _I’m a war widow_ , she had practiced saying in front of the mirror. It sounded strange to say. Old fashioned. Unreal.

_We are both war widows_ , she had thought, watching her mother. Her mother had lived through a great deal; her own disowning. Her parents’ deaths, and the funerals she could not attend. Her little cousin’s disappearance, presumed dead. Her favorite cousin’s imprisonment; his madness. Her own sister's imprisonment; her madness. And the two sisters left behind, not allowed to speak, and so growing used to not speaking. She had survived Sirius' death at the hands of her own sister. And that same sister’s death by someone in this very room. Someone she smiled at and exchanged recipes with and probably wanted to scream endlessly at, but had always been gracious, smoothing over Molly’s anxiety.

But Tonks knew that losing her father had cut her mother the most. It had always been Ted, hadn’t it? Andie and Ted, against the world. And when Andie had gotten sick – Ted had been there. When Andie had gotten too sick to keep living – Ted had been there. And Tonks had gone to school, her shoulders hunched, her smile wide to hide the dizzying well of fear inside of her. She was loud so she could say everything she could not say. She made jokes, faces, did it all but give into the building scream. The waiting for the letter. Her father’s handwriting: _she’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone._

It’s why Tonks was an only child. Why Andromeda hadn’t fought in the previous war, or joined the previous Order. Why even Bellatrix and Narcissa had managed to shield her, despite marrying a mudblood, from the other Death Eaters looking to make an example of traitorous pureblood families.

_She’s sick_ , Tonks had told Charlie tearfully her fourth year. _And I don’t know if she’s getting better_.

And miraculously – miracle of miracles – she did get better. The cancer didn’t kill her.

And for her mother to live through all that, through tragedy and excommunication and death and missing persons and fucking cancer, only to lose her husband…

Tonks sighed. Her own sorrow felt fake. Her grief over losing Remus felt more like losing a friend than losing the love of her life. In a horrible, awful, _unspeakable_ way, she missed her dad more than she missed him.

She had known her dad more. Counted on him more. Been afraid for him more, when he went on the run.

“Tonks?” It was Charlie, whose freckled and burned forearms were bared and swimming before her eyes.

“What?”

“Do you want me to take him?” he gestured at the sleeping Teddy.

Teddy. Named for her father. Not for her husband.

“Oh. Yes. If you want.”

“You can go see the baby.”

Tonks froze in the midst of handing Teddy to Charlie. Teddy fussed for a moment, before his hands went around Charlie’s neck. Tonks reflected bitterly that Charlie was more a father to Teddy than Remus had ever been. She felt immensely guilty for having such thoughts. For being _angry_ with Remus for saving her life.

_Being angry with him for leaving me alone with a newborn. For leaving me alone to live with my mother. For leaving me a widow at twenty-seven._

She smiled at Charlie wearily.

“You okay?” His brown eyes were almost exactly her own shade. It was uncomfortable to see them staring at her. Like looking into a mirror. She dropped her gaze.

“Just tired.”

“Tink.” And he used her dumb, stupid, muggle based nickname because she had short hair for the first few years at Hogwarts and had loved the silliness of _Peter Pan_ ; a boy who ran away from his future when she had wanted to run away in case her mother snuffed it of cancer.

“I’m a lost boy,” she has informed Charlie.

“You’re not a boy.”

“In spirit. I’m a lost boy. And there are no good girls. Just dumb Wendy and silly Tinkerbell.”

“Tinkerbell,” Charlie had wrinkled his nose. “A name almost as bad as yours.”

And it had stuck.

Now Tonks felt tears starting. She shook her head quickly, brushed past Charlie. “Could you take him back to Mum’s?” she heard herself asking, her voice all choked sounding.

“Yeah. Should I tell her you’ll be home soon?”

“I just…” _need some time with adults_ , she wanted to scream. _Need some time with people who aren’t my mother. Need some time sitting on furniture that isn’t my childhood bed. Need to look at something beside band posters of artists I can’t listen to without crying because it was all Before This._

She knew she was depressed. She knew Charlie knew. Just like she knew _he_ was depressed. But she didn’t know how to stop scaring him. She didn’t even know how to stop doing it. She only watched as he moved his life to Slovenia to work in a dragon nursery; even more burns. Even more injuries. A punishment, it seemed, and a penance. To love something defenseless and small and angry. Like a baby brother. Or because he hadn’t been able to stop it.

And Charlie watched her live the last year in her mum's house, reverting to her teenage self without consciously realizing it. Letting her mother take care of Teddy for days at a time before swooping him up and insisting she knew how. Forgetting to do laundry. Being too bad at household spells to cook anything. Stopped nursing Teddy and eating muggle instant meals. Ramen. American mac n’ cheese. She grew thinner and hid it with her abilities. But not well. She couldn’t hold a form long because she didn’t care enough to. Everything seemed like it was the past relived, only everything was backwards. Tonks was a teen, and she had lost her parent all right. But the wrong one. And now _she_ was a parent. A lousy one. And she had lost her father. And Teddy had lost _his_ father. And sometimes she felt more like a kid babysitting a stranger's boy from down the street. She didn’t know if she wanted to hold a new baby. To feel the blankness instead of adoration for this soft beautiful petal in Fleur’s waiting arms.

“’Ere she ees,” said Fleur as Tonks approached.

Tonks could tell she and Bill had been having a wordless conversation with their expressions as she approached the bed. It had felt like years since Charlie had gone to floo Teddy home (apparition wasn’t good for children; it was one of the reasons for the age limits).

She took the warm soft bundle from Fleur’s arms and stared at it blankly. Was she supposed to cry?

“She’s beautiful,” she echoed the words she had heard earlier.

“Like her mother,” Bill said lightly.

“Like both of us,” Fleur said firmly.

Tonks stared at the tiny perfect face. “It’s a beautiful name too,” she added.

They both beamed at her.

Bill had dark circles under his eyes. Tonks stared at them, hardly seeing the mauling of his face, except to reflect that Remus had been mauled elsewhere. The perfect crescent circle on one forearm from being bitten the first time at six. The way his whole body had born white scars under her patient fingers. She wondered if Bill was thinking about Fred. If they had thought of naming their daughter after him.

Tonks stared at the baby. She realized she had run out of things to say; she also realized the other two were saying a lot over her head wordlessly.

“Tonks,” It was Fleur, apparently, who was nominated as spokesperson. “Are you…’appee?”

This was a very stupid question, and Tonks only answered it with a sardonic glare that made Bill grin back at her.

“With your living situation, we mean?”

“I live with my mum,” she said stupidly.

“We know,” said Fleur.

“Have you thought about moving out?” asked Bill.

Tonks stared at them both. _Of course_ she had thought about moving out. But she needed money to do that. And she had been on maternity leave from the auror’s office. And then there had been the bereavement leave. And then she had taken a few days back and spent so much of her time crying in the bathroom Kingsley had sent her firmly, kindly, unfailingly home to take personal leave until she could get herself together. And now, with Teddy, she had started to think she wouldn’t work anymore. Just stay home, like a good little…

Her mind balked and wailed on the word _wife_. _Mother_. All the things she had never been. She was not traditional.

Andromeda Tonks had not been traditional either.

Maybe that’s what life was, Tonks reflected glumly. Being an individual until it was inconvenient for other people, and then bowing to the endless drudgery of life. Toiling on for someone you loved until you gratefully rolled over for your grave.

It was a stupid, maudlin, morbid thought, and Tonks knew it. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel it was true. She felt dirty for even thinking it, especially while holding someone who had just been in the world a mere few hours, and she handed back their daughter hastily as if she might contaminate her.

“I don’t have the money,” she said quietly, matter-of-factly, not meeting either of their eyes. “Mum’s been really good about me letting her stay with her. I think, after Dad…” she didn’t finish. But she didn’t need to.

“We ‘ave been theenking,” said Fleur slowly, checking with Bill as she said it.

Tonks only stared at her hopelessly. She could feel her lank hair sticking to the back of her neck. She hated it. Needed to cut it. She preferred it jaw length. A bit longer. Not sticking everywhere. But it hadn’t seemed very important. She knew as soon as it stopped annoying her she would forget about it. It would just keep growing.

“Would you consider,” and Bill had picked up the thread. “Coming to live with us? In Shell Cottage?”

Tonks stared at him in turn, completely mute. In her head, her mind railed against her. _You used to have so much to say. So many thoughts they tumbled out too fast. So many snarky remarks. So many jokes. And now look at you – you’re_ pathetic. _You can’t even say three words together, you moronic troll bride._

“Why?” It seemed the only sensible thing to say.

“I have to go back to work,” Bill said apologetically. “Not right away, of course, but not with the amount of paternity leave I would like. And I want to make sure Fleur isn’t alone. We are rather isolated.”

Tonks had been to Shell Cottage. It was a little lonely vantage-wise. Mostly sea gulls and the sound of waves. Depression paradise, it seemed.

“And he will ‘elp us get settled,” Fleur promised her. “Bill will be around long enough to ‘elp get a pattern.”

“Rhythm, _mon cher_.”

“Rhythm,” repeated Fleur obediently.

“I…can’t pay you,” Tonks said miserably.

“We know that!” said Bill quickly. “My curse breaking isn’t just knuts, you know. And they’re awful grateful, the goblins, since we took Griphook in after…” he trailed off.

“I also work for Gringott’s,” Fleur said quickly. “And I am on ze paid leave. For… _congé maternité_.”

“Okay,” Tonks heard herself agreeing. Her brain was railing: _what are you doing? You daft idiot. You don’t have anything to offer them! You have a little boy!_ The thought snagged, and she frowned a moment. “With Teddy, yeah?”

“Of course!”  Bill hastened to assure her.

“Zey will be great friends,” Fleur smiled, dropping a kiss on her daughter's brow.


	2. La déception

Tonks felt terrible when she realized Bill had paid an occultineer to add a room to the house just for Teddy.

“He could have slept in my room!” she protested.

“Zat is silly,” frowned Fleur.

“He does at home. At Mum’s, I mean.”

Fleur and Bill exchanged significant looks again, and Tonks went brilliantly pink.

Shell Cottage was what Tonk’s mum might call ‘beach house rustic.’ Regardless of wording, the wood was a silvery brown light wood, exposed whitewashed walls with small tastefully framed artwork, and large mullioned windows that opened onto the waves crashing onto the rocks and sand. There were no rugs on the floors, which Tonks thought made them seem cold and bare but the couch was a feathery light blue, squashy and soft, and the kitchen was a French dream full of gadgets and copper cookware she didn’t understand, much less want to touch.

Tonks’ own room was a square bright room, with a wall full of windows. The bed was draped in floating mosquito netting with a white fluffy comforter and two teak wood nightstands with muggle lamps, though the lightbulbs inside were run by magic, and neither lamp had a cord. It had no decorations, and was oddly white and waiting, as if they had cleared out any trace of their own personality and home as if to give her a chance to nest herself. Tonks hadn’t brought anything with her. Not even a photograph of her and Remus from the nightstand. 

“Fire hazard. Baby proofing, you know,” Bill had told her when she had tipped the lampshades to look down inside.

There was a long low dresser that held her clothes easily, deep drawer spell or not, simply because Tonks hadn’t brought much with her. One suitcase (also deep bottomed). Three pairs of shoes. And a wardrobe more suited to a week's vacation than moving in. She had only dumped her bag on the huge cable knit blue throw blanket at the end of the bed, obviously a gift from Molly, and followed Fleur out.

Andromeda had not taken Tonks moving out well, which was to be expected. Tonks felt incredibly guilty about it. She had _known_ her mother was desperate and lonely. Had known the same way she knew she was depressed and listless. And known her mother would rather have her and Teddy there – whatever shape she was in – than have them move out.

Tonks had even thought about leaving Teddy behind, just to give her mother someone to care about. She was probably better at being a grandmother than Tonks could ever hope to be as a mother. But the idea of showing up to Shell Cottage and trying to explain to the new parents that she had given up her child to bum about with them when she was supposed to be the new mother friend Fleur needed – it had forced her to be firm.

“It’ll be best for everyone, in the long run,” she had told her mother. And then, piteously. “And it won’t be that we never live together again. I just can’t do it _now_ , Mum. You know that. I know that. It’s too hard!”

“But you’re all I have,” Andromeda had said. Not shouted. Certainly not _shouted._

And Tonks had left, already crying, taking a crying Teddy, and crouching into the fireplace, grateful for the twisting views wringing her tears out, and her screaming son to take her attention as soon as she had emerged to Bill and Fleur, waiting in the kitchen expectantly.

They had spent a long time calming Teddy down, and Bill had emerged with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

“Hungry?” he had asked cheerfully, ignoring the tear marks down her face, her defeated thin ponytail. Her old faded tee and robes-vest over joggers.

Teddy had perked up for food and then taken to toddling around, having just learned to walk, which prompted an impromptu tour, which Bill and Fleur gave hand in hand, making Tonks feel awkward and embarrassed and horrified and small as she peered into rooms, noticing absently that they were just slightly too large for the outside of the house. Not so much that muggles would notice. But certainly giving the tiny hut on the rock a more casual elegance than would be possible without it.

The floo was the center of the kitchen hearth, as the kitchen and living area and dining were all in a greatroom in different areas. The table was small, only four chairs around a square silvery wood top with mismatching chairs. There was already a wooden high chair set up for Teddy, and Tonks stared at it, mortified and touched in turns as she hadn’t even thought to bring one.

There was a small hallway that led from the front door to the living room, and off that hallway was the only other hallway, that had three bedrooms, two on one side and one on the other, tucked by the other end of the living room. Victoire's was the first room, and they all peered inside the breathtakingly beautiful powder blue and white nursery. There was a mobile of white sea shells and glass unicorns, kelpies, and mermaids. Moving photographs of Gabrielle and Fleur – the sisters almost twins now – while Fleur was pregnant. Bill reading to Fleur’s stomach. And of course a picture of Fleur holding Victoire on the day she was born. A large silver V was embossed on the wall over the crib. Inside the white crib, the mattress was wrapped in printed blue cotton sheets, and a velvety ivory blanket lay at the end.There were also a great many beautiful pieces of white wooden furniture, including a changing table, a rocking chair, and a toy chest and bookshelf, both stuffed to bursting despite her being only a few days old.

Victoire was asleep, and Tonks could see the haze of a spell floating inches above her nose.

“If she waves her fist, we’ll know she’s awake,” said Bill, sounding smug. “It’ll set off the spell so one of us can check on her.”

“Smart,” said Tonks, rather enviously. She had mostly watched Teddy with an avid intensity that at least batted away any suggestions of post-partum depression. Instead she just had regular old grief-stricken depression. Tonks shook the thoughts off as she pulled her head from the nursery.

The room next door was the Master Suite. It was obviously enlarged, easily 20 feet by 20, with a white couch and chairs and a coffee table with a glittering glass barcart, a huge four poster silver wood bed with green copper fastenings, and a snow white frothed comforter. The bed was so enormous, Tonks had to wonder if it had been a regular king bed that had been expanded magically. There were six pillows on it, as if three people would each get two in a neat row. She had an insane, almost irresistible urge to run forward and flop on it, or begin jumping on it excitedly, and her lips twitched in a smile. Some feeling returned. It was almost – for a split second – like waking up from a dream and finding her old spark again, but then Fleur was opening the walk in closet, showing off proudly her on suite bathroom with its sunken tub of saltwater pulled in from underground, and Tonks’ interest and mischievousness vanished.

They took her to the room across the hall from their own which was only a short distance from the entry to the living room, the stretch of wall was the back of the fireplace and hung full of family photographs, already a few of Victoire, but also some of Order Days and people lost. There was even one of Bill and the twins. They were riding triple piggy back while Bill flexed his arms, obviously still tottering.

“We were pretty happy,” Bill had said quietly behind her, and Tonks had quickly dropped her gaze and shuffled after Fleur.

“This is your room,” she had said, and Tonks had left it quickly, embarrassed by its barrenness. 

“You ready to see Teddy’s room?” Bill asked. “We had it added on specially for him.”

“Oh you didn’t have to-“ Tonks protested, but the door had been opened and she was unexpectedly pleased, a ghost of a smile lifting the corners of her face.

Where they had left her own room carefully blank, they had decorated the second nursery into a sort of playroom, with more toys and books and furniture as if several children were going to be using it, though it would be years before either of the infants were old enough. There was another white crib, identical to Victoire’s. There was a different mobile; it had real dragon models, and had obviously been inserted lovingly by Charlie. Instead of a powder blue sheet, there was a brightly colored quilt on the crib, and several stuffed animals for Teddy to grip onto. The walls were a pastel, cheerful yellow, which was at odds with the cool silver and blue and white of the rest of the cottage, but seemed to suit her son perfectly. There were two floor to ceiling windows, and even part of the roof of glass to show off the scudding clouds, and at night no doubt the wheeling stars. There was a big white chest of drawers that was also a changing table with mismatched bright knobs for Teddy’s clothes and diapers. In the corner of the room was a diagonal door, which she realized led into the same bathroom next to her own room, on the corner of the house.

Teddy was enraptured. He ran to the rocking chair, then to the rocking dragon (also, Tonks suspected, a gift from Uncle Charlie). He wanted her to open the toy chest with tiny, rubbery fingers that worried Tonks that he might smash them.

There was a long, awkward moment when the three adults looked at each other, unsure of what to do, before Bill said lightly: “What should we have for dinner?”

 

* * *

 

 

Life at first was a bit bumpy. Tonks realized quickly that sad sleeping or hiding in her room was impossible with two people in her age group who also had nowhere to be. Bill or Fleur would knock on the door and bring breakfast trays and ask if she was ill, and it just got to be so much and so embarrassing she started showing up to breakfast out of sheer embarrassment and avoidance more than anything else.

Breakfast started as a stilted affair. Bill cooked every morning. Fleur usually nursed Victoire. Tonks, who had been tired of nursing after eight months, had switched the formula. But she began giving Teddy his bottle in her lap, which made him squirm in the beginning as he looked for his Gran, and Tonks wrestled with guilt and shame to realize she hadn’t fed him breakfast since she had stopped breast feeding.

But as they days trickled by, Tonks and Fleur and Bill fell into a routine. Victoire cried at daybreak, and Fleur rose to feed her. She usually returned to her massive bed with the baby, and they slept for a while after, while Bill was petrified (despite being feet away) of squashing his daughter, and he rolled out of bed at eight to start breakfast. Once Bill was up, Teddy would want to be let out of his crib, his diaper changed, and his bottle prepared, which woke Tonks. She would carry him on a hip to the table and sit in what quickly became _her_ chair, which had arms on either side to help support Teddy’s weight as she lay him across her lap, and by the time Teddy was half finished sucking his bottle, Fleur would arrive at the table, looking bleary eyed and beautiful, and baring a breast to give Victoire her next feeding.

In the beginning, Tonks had been embarrassed by the nudity. But Fleur was evidently one of those girls who didn’t mind stripping to the skin in locker rooms or spa hot tubs simply because there was nothing about her that could possibly make her insecure. Bill had also did not show a thread of awkwardness. His eyes didn’t even flick over her breast except as a way to gage if Victoire was almost finished. And so, not to be a sore thumb, Tonks had acted like it didn’t bother her, and found quickly that it honestly didn’t. She was a mother feeding her child; Fleur was another.

Over breakfast they talked mainly of very innocuous things: the weather, usually, whether they would take the children for a walk later. How good the eggs were. How they might run to the store later. What they wanted to plan for dinner.

Tonks had realized awkwardly that Fleur cooked dinner, and Bill breakfast, and so it seemed churlish not to offer to captain lunch. She was no great shakes at cooking, but a grocery run yielded sandwich meat and fresh fruit and crisps and cold pumpkin juice and iced butterbeer.

Bill was less traditional in wizard life than his own family had been: Shell Cottage did not have electricity or a television, but did have a refrigerator (which was not plugged in, only spelled), an oven, lightbulbs, and a few nifty spells, like sweeping spells that went off every hour, dishwashing spells, and even breeze spells coming through the windows, keeping the cottage cool and bearable even in approaching summer.

Bill, Fleur, and Tonks even took Teddy to play on the beach. The first time they went, they only went in their bare feet and robes pushed up over their shoulders. Teddy had a good hour playing in the sand (Tonks and Fleur alternately spelling the sunblock on him), and they had walked back, Tonks carrying him and feeling rather stumpy next to willowy Fleur – who wasn’t taller than her so much as better formed – and Bill who was over six feet. Fleur had worn a sort of scarf sarong that should not have been able to hold up a small orange with its weight, much less a baby. Victoire had slept through the whole outing.

But the next time they went to the beach, they went in their swimsuits. Tonks even conjured enough concentration to not look mortifying, matching her hair to the color of her swimsuit, though she almost lost it when Bill took off his shirt – when did he have the time to work out that much? And Fleur dropped her sheer cover.

Tonks knew, rationally, that had she had any sort of sex drive left she would have found both Bill and Fleur mouthwatering. But as it was they just contributed to her insecurity and made her feel like a third wheel. At the end of the second week, over wine, she ventured to say as much.

“You’re not a third wheel,” said Bill at once.

“What does zis mean, ‘third wheel’?” frowned Fleur.

“Like I’m butting in. That you’d be happier together and I’m just in the way.”

“I’m going back to work Monday,” said Bill unhappily. “You won’t be in the way then.”

“And you are not in ze way!” exclaimed Fleur hotly.

“Honestly, these two weeks have been the most restful I’ve ever had,” Bill admitted, looking at his hands.

Tonks was astonished to realize he was kind of right. She stuck to her side, however, doggedly. “And Teddy’s a handful. I know that,” she added, and despaired that she was making her son sound like some sort of recalcitrantly trained dog.

“He ees not!”

“Teddy brings the most life to this house.”

“Life,” laughed Tonks. “That’s one word for it.”

“With parents like he had,” Bill pointed out. “Did you expect him _not_ to be interested in everything, have a sense of humor, want to smile all the time?”

Tonks did not look at either of them as she stared down. Her glass was empty, but she didn’t remember taking the last sip. She hated that feeling. Like she had missed it. Just like she didn’t know what she and Remus did on their last night on earth together. Certainly not sex. Did they even speak before they both glanced at each other and he charged off, Tonks haring angrily after him, not content to sit at home and play the housewife? Had they even said goodnight?

“Do you want to talk about eet?” Fleur asked cautiously.

“About what?” Tonks looked up.

“The anniversary,” said Bill soberly.

“Shut up,” Tonks said, without thinking, almost like she was talking to Charlie. She had always known Bill. But known Bill as _Charlie’s older brother_ and Charlie’s _cool_ older brother. Head Boy. That sort of thing.

“What?”

“You lost-“ and she stopped herself.

Bill didn’t. “Yeah. I did. And I think I’ve talked about him more in the last month than you’ve mentioned Remus in the last year.”

Tonks wanted to shut her ears. She shut her eyes instead.

“I can’t even imagine,” Fleur prodded gently.

_No, you can’t_ , Tonks thought miserably. _Because you two are so in love. Because you’ve known each other for years. Because you didn’t fall into each other out of heartbreak and fear and then discover it’s a sham. Discover the cracks that you both said were from the war. From the stress. The ones you lied about out of hope that one day would disappear._

_You can’t imagine the fucking_ relief _of having to avoid all that._

The guilt of that thought.

“I’m fine,” she said instead.

Fleur and Bill kept up a wordless conversation until Tonks went to check on Teddy and then to crawl into her bed.


	3. Un Déjeuner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is for a very small audience with a very small fanbase and I honestly don't even know if I ship terribly hard. But the more I write of this - and honestly it writes itself - the more I fall in love. Fall in love with Teddy and Victoire growing up together. Fall in love with the small house on the sea. Fall in love with one of my favorite minor characters in the series: Andromeda Black. Fall in love with Fleur as a human being, and not as a plot device. And Tonks - who has almost always been the character I identify with most - gets to be sad and human and not just a marital ending and an orphan's swan song.
> 
> So I know it's silly to beg for reviews from the probably 12 people who will read this, but my fingers are going in several different directions with this, and I want your opinion on what you'd like to see most: angst, fluff, smut, happily ever after? All? None? But regardless. It's been amazingly fun to write even just these three chapters; to stretch muscles and imagination into more shadowy obscure rarepairs, and honestly fall in love with this poly ship harder than I ever intended.

When Bill returned to Gringott’s, Tonks and Fleur began to fight. And about simple, silly things. Bill didn’t cook breakfast, so Teddy didn’t hear him; Tonks didn’t hear Teddy. Fleur didn’t get up. Then around ten thirty, there was a ballistic explosion of angry and hungry infants, and two mothers guilty and angry themselves because there was nothing to eat and no one to help them. The fact that they were supposed to be helping each other only made them testier, as both felt like secret failures.

“You don’t even  _cook_ ,” Fleur said haughtily, pointing out that Tonks should be in charge of breakfast.

Tonks, who was not a morning person and could have gladly skipped breakfast for the hours of extra sleep, glared at her. “I don’t even want breakfast,” she snapped.

“Me either.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“So we won’t have breakfast,” she challenged.

“Bill will be ‘ome on weekends,” said Fleur, nose in the air. “And ‘e will cook then.”

“Fine.”

“I will nurse Victoire in bed then.”

“I’ll make Teddy’s bottle the night before,” Tonks challenged angrily, but her heart was sinking. Teddy was much more of a handful – required a lot more looking after – than a newborn did. Victoire slept and stared and ate and slept some more. Teddy actually wanted to be played with and read to and  _nurtured._  This was most inconvenient when Tonks didn’t want to get up at all in the mornings, much less put on a chipper face and pick up toys and kiss her sweet little boy.

The very guilt of it drove her to sit on the floor and stroke his hair, changing her features to make him to squeal with glee. He would try to change his own, slowly, fumblingly, and Tonks found it made her laugh too. The first time Teddy lost his teal hair at Shell Cottage, Tonks realized with a jolt how extraordinarily like Remus he had grown to look. He had the same sandy blonde hair that would turn light brown later in life. The same pale features, large serious eyes, same straight nose. She supposed he looked a little like her too; thin lips, always half quirked. He had gotten the brown of her eyes, if not their shape. [(ref)](https://hairstylehub.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/textured-taper-cut.png)

Remus had told her in the days following Teddy’s birth he had always been a small, thin, sickly boy post-bite, but Teddy was nothing like that. He was more like her mother said Tonks had been: sturdy legs and a runny nose. Tonks couldn’t help but notice that Teddy’s hair was more often sandy now than teal. It made her realize he wasn’t as happy here as he was at her mum’s.

“You miss your Gran, don’t you, sweet boy?” she asked him one morning, dropping a kiss on his brow as he sucked noisily on his bottle. “Why don’t we go see her?”

The floo was just as dreadful of an experience for Teddy as it had been the first time, but his howls of outrage and anger brought Andie running from the kitchen.

“Dora!” she cried in surprise. Then: “Teddy!” And she swooped him into her arms and he gurgled in glee, tears forgotten, his hair suddenly a shockingly bright blue.

“Hey Mum,” Tonks said quietly. She didn’t know why but she was suddenly on the verge of tears. “Is it okay if we have breakfast here?”

Andie looked shocked; her own hair had once been auburn but was now threaded with silver. She was very thin, but still had her old hips, her long fingers. Tonks’ father had always called her a siren. Tonk’s mother had always countered that she was built like a children’s spinning top. But now Andie’s hazel eyes stung with Tonks’ own tears. “Of course, love. You never have to ask.”

They went to the kitchen to have beans and toast. Andromeda was no great shakes at cooking either; Ted had always been the master of the kitchen. But sitting in her old house, drinking tea out of her favorite mug, coffee out of her dad’s old one, Tonks had felt happier than she had in a long time.

“I still live at Shell Cottage,” she told her mother rather forcefully.

But Andie did not disagree. “I think it’ll be better for you and Teddy to grow together.”

Tonks tried not to be offended at the sting.

The day with Fleur after returning from her mother’s seemed brighter after that. Tonks would often start the kettle on the stove back at Shell Cottage. She would open the windows to the sunshine and breezes. She even turned on the radio. Around ten or so, Fleur would drift out, usually just finished nursing Victoire. Tonks had enchanted a basket to reshape itself into a floating bassinet. She had also asked her mother to help her find some gauzy curtains to hover around it and keep Victoire from any insects. Fleur had been unexpectedly touched.

“It’s so we can move her around with us,” Tonks said awkwardly when Fleur tested the weight of the spell with one hand.

“Zank you,” said Fleur, rather stiffly.

They spent a lot of time in Teddy’s room. Fleur had moved the white couch from her and Bill’s room into it so she and Tonks could sit together. They took turns entertaining Teddy and reading books, or just chatting softly. They had realized, rather shyly, they were both strangers.

“What do your parents do?” Tonks had asked, casting about for a subject.

Fleur had latched gratefully; the first tottering steps of friendship were always awkward. “Papa ees a diplomat. Maman ees a wand corer.”

“A what?” asked Tonks, embarrassed but unsurprised by Fleur’s upbringing. Of  _course_  her father was a diplomat. It was why she had gone to an internationally ranked school. Why she had been advanced enough to be chosen as a Triwizard Champion. She was worldly, well-travelled, well off. Quite the opposite of Tonks’ average life, or her poorer-than-average parents; one excommunicated from her family and the other the same in all but name, the muggle side not knowing what to do with her as a grandchild with such obvious magical ability. Such shockingly pink hair.

“A wand corer. She collects ze ingredients for wand cores. It’s why my wand core ees a strand of my grandmother’s ‘air. She was a Veela, you know.”

“I know,” said Tonks. It was one of the only things she knew about Fleur at all.

“And your parents?”

There was a tense, awkward silence. Tonks didn’t cry. Only felt embarrassed. Fleur genuinely didn’t seem to know.

“My father was killed in the war,” she said at last.

Fleur clicked her teeth shut. “Bill told me zat,” she said finally. “I am sorry. I ‘ad forgotten.”

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, really, but what could she say?

“What  _did_  ‘e do?”

“Nothing very interesting,” laughed Tonks, but her laugh was only for conversation. Only for politeness. “He was a contractor. For occultineer renovations.”

“An occultineer?”

“No,” and Tonks was embarrassed, as her father always had been when people made the same mistake. “He was the surveyor. Sort of. He would go out first and see what the people wanted and give them quotes and then write up the contracts for the occultineers to pick out of the pile. Like if you were the civil occultineer you’d come in and find a pile of contracts ready to go, pick up six or seven, and then pop out of the office again to do them.”

“Ah, I see.”

A long silence.

“And you mother?” Fleur pronounced it  _mozer_.

“She…she was a writer. For a while.”

“Eh?”

“A journalist.”

“Ah I see,” and Fleur was happy to warm to the subject. “And when did she stop?”

“She got sick when I was four,” said Tonks miserably. “And she just…kept getting sicker.”

“Sick?”

“Cancer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“But she ees alright?”

“Yeah. For now.”

“For now?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. Remission?”

“Sort of. Yeah. I guess.”

“When did she get better?”

“My fifth year. I thought…we had thought…my dad and I…”

“I see.”

“I almost dropped out of Hogwarts, towards that time.”

“Why not?”

“Charlie.”

“Our Charlie?”

And Tonks smiled to hear him described so. Fleur’s brother-in-law. Victoire’s uncle. Tonks’ best friend from school. “Yeah. Our Charlie. He told me to wait. Just a week. And I hated him.  _God._ I hated him. But it was O.W.L. year. We were afraid of failing.”

“You did not fail.” A statement of assurance. Tonks knew without asking Fleur probably got Outstandings – or their French equivalent – on all her O.W.L.s.

“Some,” admitted Tonks.

“Really?”

“I failed History of Magic. Barely scraped an Acceptable in Astronomy and Charms. No good at Charms, really. Not like you.”

“Yes,” said Fleur thoughtfully, unabashed by her own ability. Victoire began to cry, and Fleur retrieved her from the bassinet and shrugged a strap from her top to nurse. “I was always good at charms.”

They changed the subject.

Bill came home in the evenings, tired and ready to see his daughter. He smiled and kissed Fleur, tapped Tonks on her shoulder.

“How’s your Mum?” he always asked her.

“Okay. Yours?”

“Okay. She wants to know if we’re coming to dinner Sunday.”

Sunday dinners were of the whole Weasley clan. Tonks hadn’t been, but Fleur and Bill went religiously, taking Victoire to see her grandmother and leaving Tonks to ignore the stabbing loneliness she suddenly felt at their absence, painted over in the dull nighttime noises with the mournful splash of the waves on the rocks.

“Oh yes,” said Fleur comfortably. She nodded at Tonks. “And you. You should come.”

“Oh,” said Tonks, blushing furiously. Embarrassed. “No. Really it’s…you know…”

Expectant faces.

“And where would Teddy-“

“He can come too, of course.”

“It’s a family thing.”

“And now you are family,” said Fleur, so blasé, so comfortable, Tonks almost didn’t hear her. She looked desperately at Bill, who only grinned.

“Sorry. No take backs.”

Tonks didn’t see her mother for breakfast on weekends usually, with Bill home to make it, but she went that Sunday.

“Love,” said her mother, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Inviting you over,” said Tonks, embarrassed to realize she had never done that before.

“Oh,” said her mother blankly. “But Bill and Fleur.”

“Invited you,” lied Tonks at once.

Her mother patted her own chest worriedly. “I’m not dressed.”

“I can wait.”

“Should I bring a bottle of wine?”

Tonks only laughed.

She emerged out of the floo with a wailing Teddy a few minutes before her mother’s arrival.

“I invited my mother over,” she told the other two without preamble. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Bill rushed to say. “He’s Teddy’s gran. She should feel free to come over any time.”

“I must clean!” Fleur shrieked.

Twenty minutes later, Andromeda Tonks stepped out of the fireplace. She was dressed well, in dress robes more suited to eating at a restaurant than visiting. She was wearing jewelry, makeup, and clutched a bottle of white wine. Tonks reflected her mother hadn’t worked this hard on her appearance since before the war.

On the other side of the couch, Fleur was glistening with her light sheen of sweat from sprinting around the house to make it impeccably organized and clean. The floors were still shining wetly with the recent mopping spell. There were at least four candles lit, and Fleur was looking radiant in a simple silk dress and a velvet cape robes.

Bill, who had watched the whole meltdown of his wife with amusement, had at least been bullied into showering and changing into unripped jeans and plaid casual robes rolled at the sleeves. His long hair was in a ponytail, neatly combed, and his beard he had grown in to cover the mauling of his face was combed and trimmed to edges that could cut.

Even Tonks and Teddy had not been exempt.

“You are wearing zat?”

“Mum already saw me this morning.”

“Okay,” Fleur had said doubtfully. “But at least give Teddy a fresh bath?”

Tonks had been mortified. She bathed Teddy regularly, but because they had gone to the beach yesterday with Bill, Teddy’s bath had been early in the day, and she realized he could stand another one.

Teddy did not go quietly. Like most children his age, he liked bathtime when he wanted to like it, and he did  _not_  appreciate being scrubbed with fancy smelling salts that Fleur made herself in her cauldron using the salt they collected from the rocks outside.

“That’s it love,” Tonks had murmured, putting his diaper back on and then sitting back, sweaty and soaked to the skin, to let Teddy run around naked.

It had been impossible to keep her soaked clothes, and she had changed into some of Fleur’s cotton shorts and a plain sage green v-neck of her own, which had the least amount of holes in it of all her shirts. She even pulled on a set of patterned grey robes to match, and Fleur told her coolly that the tones she had selected brought out her natural coloring in her jaw length hair.

Tonks knew without looking that the compliment had added an auburn luster to the lowlights and she felt marginally prettier than she had in weeks.

“Welcome to our ‘ome,” Fleur said haltingly, her brain blanking on English in the face of Tonks’ mother.

Andie smiled. “I brought wine for lunch.”

“Zat ees so kind, zank you,” said Fleur, her accent heavier than usual, moving forward to take the bottle.

“Préférez-vous si nous parlions en français?” asked Andie.

“Vous pouvez parler français?” replied Fleur in delight.

“Mum has always had a knack for languages,” said Tonks, smiling. “And cleaning,” she added as an afterthought.

“And French is such a classic language among…” and Andie flushed a little before continuing: “among the old families.” She glanced around appreciatively at the lightening and brightening charms Fleur had sent about the cottage. “And you have a beautiful home.”

Fleur glowed.

They had a tasty lunch, not the least of which was because Tonks – usually in charge of the meal – was relegated to chopping and peeling the fruits and vegetables.

Both Fleur and Bill were in the kitchen, rushing about. Fleur was making savory crepes and quiche. Bill was using his mother’s own recipes to add fresh caught fish in filleted and fried strips with a dipping sauce. Tonks served celery sticks as appetizers with a cream cheese mix dip, and set aside pears, cheese, fresh berries and whipped cream for dessert. Even a dunce like her could whip cream and sugar together.

“All of this was exquisite,” Andie said contentedly sipping the wine over empty plates.

Both Fleur and Bill were stuffed to bursting. Tonks was still nibbling.

Teddy had been scrubbed clean with a zapped spell from his gran, and was currently in her lap, playing with her beaded necklace.

“We were telling Tonks earlier,” said Bill, spreading soft cheese over a slice of pear. “You should always feel welcome here to see Teddy.”

“And me,” Tonks said, cheeking the bite of quiche.

“And you, love,” laughed her mother, squeezing her hand fondly. She looked at Bill and Fleur. “Thank you, for helping my daughter,” she said.

Tonks choked. “Mum!”

“Eet is our pleasure,” Fleur waved her own wine glass, which was empty.

“And she’s helping us,” Bill added valiantly. “Helping Fleur while I’m at work.”

“Yes; our maternity leave will end in six weeks,” said Fleur, as if she and Tonks had twins, instead of children a year apart. “Zen we will ‘ave to find other arrangements for ze children.”

“Well Tonks knows I’ll look after Teddy,” said Andromeda at once. “Perhaps I can-“

“My mother was just saying she would look after both-“ Bill said at the same time, and they both stopped, laughing awkwardly.

Fleur graciously saved them both. “Perhaps we can split ze time,” she said tactfully. “So no one ‘as to deal with two children every day.”

“Perhaps we can,” Andie said after a moment, looking at Tonks. Tonks knew she would prefer to keep Teddy to herself every day, but for some reason Tonks couldn’t bring herself to offer him outright to her mother. Maybe it was because she wasn’t sure yet if she was ever  _going_  back to work. Maybe she would just become a stay at home mum. Even if the idea of it seemed like an unending sort of sameness, and she had no patience for teaching in homeschool. Or maybe it was because she was jealous of her mother and Teddy’s relationship. It was petty, and stupid, and Tonks dropped her eyes to the table.

“I should be going,” Andie said after a few more minutes idle conversation.

“Perhaps you can come over again sometime,” Fleur offered graciously.

Andie laughed. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“We shall plan, hmm? Do you ‘ave a preference for a day? Maybe a weekday?”

Andie took the hint at once. “Of course. I don’t want to intrude on weekends.”

“Maybe Wednesdays, Mum?” Tonks added hastily. Wednesdays were midweek. Not too encroaching on Molly’s time.

“That sounds lovely to me,” said Andie.

“And us as well,” added Bill.

“But you must come over to my house,” insisted Andie firmly.

“Oh but-“ began Bill.

“I have nothing else to do,” Andie said with a steely glint in her eye. “And you work all day, and you two will be soon,” and Tonks’ heart sank to realize she had been included in her mother’s glare.

“That way you can all take a break from cooking.”

“Oh that’s-“ said Tonks.

“Really kind,” Bill interrupted, glaring at her.

After Andie had ducked back through the floo, Bill unbuttoned his jeans and flopped on the blue couch. "I'm stuffed," he groaned. "And we still have Mum's tonight."

"Not tonight," said Fleur, checking the freestanding grandfather clock in the hall. It looked odd and unusual, probably a souvenir of one of Bill's many travels abroad. "We are leaving by five, no? Only three hours."

"Oh God," groaned Bill. "Do you think I could take a nap?"

Tonks realized Teddy was fussy, and she was exhausted too. Cleaning even as little as she had and the stress of her mother visiting had taken it out of her. "We should all take a nap," she agreed, picking Teddy up.

"Come into ze room," Fleur invited her. Tonks never went into their room. "I will lay down, but I need to nurse Victoire, and we 'ave things to discuss."

Bemused, Tonks carried Teddy into their bedroom, trying not to feel like an intruder snooping around. She felt almost like she had when she was a kid; when Charlie or one of her other friends had asked her to spend the night and she had ventured into the parents' room for something.

Bill immediately fell into bed, yawning hugely. 

"It ees the full moon," Fleur said quietly to her, so quietly Tonks had to sit on the bed next to her and lean forward to hear.

Fleur gestured at the bassinet. "Can Teddy fit in zat?"

"Maybe," and Tonks concentrated on tucking his feet in, slipping off his shoes as the spelled bassinet hovering by Fleur dipped under his weight before steadying. Teddy was as sleepy as Bill, his eyes blinking at Tonks as if to make sure she wasn't leaving him. Fleur was reclining on the cushions next to her husband, the baby nursing rhythmically with tiny suckling grunts of contentment. 

"A moment," Fleur breathed, and Tonks realized Bill  _had_ been exhausted, because his eyes were already shut as Fleur shifted her weight to the middle two pillows, patting the place beside her for Tonks. "Sit," she instructed.

Tonks crawled into place, feeling oddly kin with Fleur. The feeling of the sleepover only increased. Like she and Fleur were friends on their first friend date. She had the same stomach pixies fluttering about, wanting Fleur to like her. Wanting her own stupid mouth not to mess it all up like she often did.

"Did I make you uncomfortable when I mentioned work?" Fleur asked in barely a murmur.

Tonks was busy - purposefully so - peering into the bassinet. Teddy's eyes had shut. "A bit," she admitted.

"I am sorry."

"It's okay."

"I thought you would want to go back to being an auror."

"I do."

"Do you?"

"I don't know."

"Would you want to do something else?"

"I don't know."

"Perhaps you can see when you get there."

"I worry I won't like it anymore."

"Auror?"

"Yeah. And it's all I ever wanted to be. All I worked for."

"And why should you not like it?"

"Because of Remus."

Silence between them. Victoire had finished and was yawning sleepily. Fleur moved her to a shoulder to pat her gently, not looking at Tonks. 

"Because 'e died for you?"

"A bit."

"Bit?" Fleur frowned. Tonks wasn't sure if it was because she didn't understand the phrase or didn't understand the sentiment. Tonks wasn't sure if she did either.

"There are other reasons."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What are zese other reasons?"

"I don't know."

"Tonks," and it was so strange to hear her own name from Fleur's throat she smiled a bit. She shut her eyes, leaning back into the pillows. It was easier not to have to look at Fleur. At her flawless bronzed cheekbones so close.

"It's not...fun anymore."

"Fun?"

"There used to be a point to it, you know?"

"The war?"

"Voldemort and all that." She couldn't help her own shiver, even if Fleur was impassive when Tonks peaked an eye at her.

"Yes."

"Well...it's been a year. I've missed the boat, haven't I? Sitting around with Teddy."

"I am sure you 'ave not."

"But...going forward...I joined up... I became an auror for a point."

"A point?"

"Yeah. And now..."

"No point."

"Yeah."

"Common crime."

"Yeah."

"I zink I understand."

Tonks' lids were heavy. "Yeah?" she muttered, her heart strangely content. If only conversations with her mother went like this.

Fleur yawned and scrunched herself down in the bed, placing Victoire over her heart. "You are afraid your life will be meaningless."

"Yeah. Something like that," mumbled Tonks.

"And if zis is true - you are afraid Remus' death will be too."

Tonks didn't open her eyes, but the traitor tears leaked out nonetheless. 

Neither of them spoke again, and when Tonks managed to rip her eyes open accusingly when she had mastered herself, she discovered she was the only one left awake.


	4. Un Dîner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for the lovely comments. Don't worry - this is going to have a happy ending. But it could also have some bumpy stops at angst and love and redemption along the way.

Tonks woke groggily. She realized she was balancing on a tiny sliver of bed, body heat flushed against Fleur, who was sprawled across two people’s worth of bed, her feet pressed securely against Bill’s jean leg as he slept, and her body twisted protectively to the hollow space between her and Bill where Victoire slept as soundly as her parents. Her back was nested spoon-shaped into Tonks, and Tonks woke to the dizzying smell of almonds and roses that was in Fleur’s shampoo.

She raised a hand to her eyes and scrubbed, frowning, trying to remember if she was supposed to be wearing any skin like hair color or tattoos. She didn’t think so. She was just herself today.

It was a balancing act to sit up enough to get out of bed without tipping out straight to the floor. She managed it only by accidentally putting a hand on Fleur’s solid hip to lever herself up.

Fleur woke with a jerk. “Qu'Est-ce que c'est?”

“Nothing,” said Tonks. “What time is it?”

Fleur checked the baby, and it finally occurred to Tonks to check the hovering bassinet. Teddy was rubbing his eyes, obviously just having woken up.

“I need to nurse ‘er,” said Fleur, rubbing her own eyes.

“I’ll go find a clock,” said Tonks reaching into the bassinet for Teddy, who obligingly lifted his arms. She hoisted him into her arms with a huff. “You’re getting heavy,” she told him, and felt his diaper, which was full.

Twenty minutes later, Fleur shook Bill, who had been sleeping peacefully on his back, his hands folded across his stomach, and legs splayed out.

“Whassa matter?” he snorted, jerking awake.

“Eet is time to get up; we need to be at your parent’s ‘ouse soon,” said Fleur, who was changing Victoire’s diaper and outfit on the bottom of the bed, freshening her up for her grandparents.

Tonks was feeling uneasy. She didn’t really want to go, but as if Fleur had guessed her thoughts, she snapped her sapphire blue eyes over at her, and Tonks fell obediently silent, her open mouth ending only in a sigh.

“At least we’re dressed,” said Bill, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbing his face with both hands, scratching his beard vigorously before standing up.

“I ‘ave to reapply my makeup,” Fleur said severely, finishing with her wand to change the baby and then buttoning up Victoire by hand.

“I’m not wearing makeup,” said Tonks stupidly.

“Me neither,” grinned Bill.

“Zat is your choice,” said Fleur serenely handing her daughter to her husband and crossing to the white vanity covered in _Glamor Witch_ products all over it.

Tonks realized she should leave, but didn’t know where else to go. She sunk back on the white bed next to Bill, still holding a sleepy Teddy curling up in her arms, blinking awake on her shoulder. They both watched Fleur, who seemed uncaring of her audience as she began her routine.

 _Her wand work is either seamless, or she’s using magic without a wand,_ Tonks thought, deeply impressed. Liquids and creams were swirling out of tubes and jars and mixing in midair before splashing themselves across Fleur’s already flawless skin with wide, beautifully soft mink hair brushes. Setting powder in white clouds, blush in orange pink ones. There was actual unicorn hair ground into sparkling dust for highlighter, and cobalt pigment for the corners of her eyes. Fleur favored an all over natural look, but the Cornish pixie blue make her sapphire eyes startlingly beautiful.

Tonks was a dunce at makeup, merely because she didn’t need it. Not that she was anywhere near as lovely as Fleur, but because she only had to wish herself to be wearing it to have it on. She realized she should brush her hair, and began finger combing it awkwardly with one hand before Fleur spotted her in the mirror.

“Bill, use zat to brush Tonks’ ‘air.”

“Oh, no, really,” Tonks said, trying to put Teddy on the bed next to her. “I can-“

Teddy had begun to wail, and she pulled him back to her quickly, where he subsided, sniffling.

“He’s probably hungry,” said Bill, attacking her head with the comb cheerfully. He was incredibly gentle nonetheless and Tonks had to maintain her dignity by casting her eyes downwards.

Half an hour later, the diaper bag was packed with two sizes of diapers. Teddy had woken up properly and was now madly excited to be going somewhere twice in one day. Even Victoire was perked up, her muddy non-colored eyes peering around her in interest as Bill tucked her in a pouch in the front of his plaid robes.

“You and Bill go first,” said Fleur decisively, flicking her wand to the fireplace, where a hearty fire sprang up without any logs to burn.

“What? Why?” objected Tonks immediately. It was almost as if Fleur had read her mind. She had hoped she might stay behind for last and then come up with a reason she couldn’t go.

“Ze babies will cry,” said Fleur. “And zen it will be good to give you more time to calm them down.”

“I don’t think we should go together. It’ll be too crowded” said Bill, and Tonks threw him a grateful glance. “Tonks should go first.” The glance turned murderous.

“I don’t even know your Mum and Dad very well,” Tonks stammered. “They’ll be wanting to see _you_ , not me.”

“Fine, zen Bill and Victoire are first,” and Fleur chivvied them forward without any more objections up to the fireplace. Bill took a pinch of glittering green powder out of what Tonks had assumed was a delicate white music box before he threw it in the fire. The fire turned green. He walked forward and clearly spoke:

“The Burrow!”

They were gone in a whoosh of green firelight, Bill’s hand pressed to Victoire’s head, holding it fast against his chest.

The fire returned to yellow, but Fleur pinched floo powder and threw it down for Tonks, who looked desperately at her. At least Bill had gone ahead, she supposed, to warn them all. Teddy began fussing and crying, already knowing what was coming. He tried to push back on her face, and Tonks jerked her chin around his hands and yelled:

“The Burrow!”

She felt the draw upwards, and Teddy’s voice became a loud angry thin sound, barely visible to the passing grates as they spun very fast in place over and over. Tonks tried to move her hand to cover Teddy’s eyes, but she couldn’t move it without knocking it hard against the brickwork, which might snap her wrist at the speed they were traveling. She only squinted against the spinning and was grateful when her feet touched down, very dizzy over the long distance.

“I’ll take him, give him here Tonks,” said a familiar voice.

“Thanks Molly,” said Tonks weakly, handing over her bellowing son to Molly Weasley.

Bill was covered in Victoire’s vomit, and Fleur, who had of course apparated in to avoid the irritation of floo travel, was whisking it off of him with her wand.

“Here, have some water,” said a kindly voice, and Tonks grinned at Ginny, who looked relieved to see Tonks smile at all.

Tonks realized all at once that she must have worried everyone by her protracted absence and seclusion. She looked away, embarrassed.

“He’s _so big_ ,” said another familiar voice. It was Hermione, cooing over Teddy, who was calming down under Mrs. Weasley's expert jostling and kisses. It felt strange to see Teddy so adored by other people, when Tonks was never as overtly affectionate herself.

She felt like a failure.

She tried to nod in Hermione’s direction in welcome, but felt she was just jerking her chin hard. “Yes. He’s fifteen months.”

She hated that she sounded so pretentious measuring his months. But “a little older than a year and a little younger than a year and a half” seemed a mouthful, so she let it drop. No one else seemed to have noticed, and Mrs. Weasley handed Teddy to a grinning Hermione while she swooped down on her first grandchild.

Tonks swallowed hard. Teddy might have been cute, but he wasn’t related to anyone here. She looked over, forced herself to ask: “Can I help with anything, Molly?”

Mrs. Weasley looked her over dubiously. Tonks was notoriously clumsy. No doubt she wasn’t very welcome in a small kitchen.

“I can set the table,” Tonks clarified.

Mrs. Weasley nodded in relief. “Sure. Ginny is helping too.”

There was a loud crack, and a shriek of glee from Teddy, who wriggled out of Hermione’s surprised grasp and ran to greet his Uncle.

“There’s my man!” Charlie crowed, swooping Teddy up high over his head and making him shriek in delight.

“I thought I was your man,” said Bill in injured tones.

“Yeah, and me,” butted in Ron, coming in from the garden and grinning at his elder brother.

“Hey,” said Harry, following Ron in.

Teddy gurgled, and Harry went to him at once, grinning. He looked at Tonks. “He’s grown,” he told her. “He looks just like his dad.”

Tonks kept her smile in place with effort. “Yeah,” she agreed easily. “I know.”

Teddy’s hair was sandy again as Charlie set him on the floor.

“It’s been too long,” clucked Mrs. Weasley. “We haven’t seen Teddy properly for weeks.”

 _Months_ thought Tonks gloomily. _She’s just not saying it._

Obligingly, Teddy had caught hold of Mrs. Weasley's hand as she led him to the garden. Teddy checked over his shoulder to make sure his mother was following. Bill and Fleur were talking animatedly with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who were all peering at Victoire, who was staring around, looking too lovely to be a real baby.

Tonks followed, giving Teddy an encouraging sort of smile. She knew without looking she had lost some of her grip on her appearance; her hair had dulled. She had dropped in weight. Normally people liked being thin; this was embarrassing evidence of her depression. _At least_ , she thought gloomily, _I didn’t eat myself larger_. But somehow that would have been better. She felt like people were so prejudiced against getting fat that gaining curves made people cluck disapprovingly and ignore mental health. Even though she knew it was stupid, she was at least glad that people understood she was depressed, instead of asking her when she might start dating again, or tut over her weight gain.

An arm was thrown about her shoulder and made her start. It was Charlie, of course.

“How’s it, Tink?”

“You stink,” she wrinkled her nose.

“Tinker and stinker,” said Charlie cheerfully, unperturbed. “And it’s dragon blood. It’s fairly coppery.”

Tonks loved Charlie. She loved how well they got on together; their similar humor; their pick up games of quidditch (she was very, _very_ bad, and fell off her broom more often than not). But right now, she wanted to do nothing so much as hide. She felt like an imposter around Charlie. She felt like she had gone away and left someone else wearing her face – or whichever face she wore – and saying things with her voice. Left someone else with her son. Living in his brother’s house. She felt panicky around Charlie. He couldn’t like her anymore, because she wasn’t _her._

“Your mum asked me to help set the table,” she said quickly, ducking out from under his arm and moving forward outside. Ginny was already spelling napkins to wrap around silverware. She grinned at Tonks.

“Put them on the plates?”

The Weasley’s back garden had been transformed for Sunday dinners (or Tonks supposed, always) with market lights strung between high spanning oak trees and real fairy lights in lanterns floating above the table. The sun was setting and there were crickets buzzing. Somewhere there was a pond that sloshed softly with fish and other water creatures. Between the rose bushes that gave off a heady sweet fragrance, little garden gnomes were sprinting about, laughing madly as Hermione’s enormous ginger cat Crookshanks chased them about. He had a weekend home at the Burrow, content to roam the grounds and fields while Ron and Hermione spent the weekends with Ron’s parents, helping shake them from their perpetual grief.

Tonks shook herself and moved forward automatically. She didn’t even use magic, just gathering the silverware and setting it on top of the plates rather harder than was necessary, rattling the cutlery and porcelain.

Teddy was already staring in fascination at the garden gnomes as Crookshanks sprinted past. Without warning, Teddy joined in pelting after the cat, and Mrs. Weasley let him go, smiling fondly. Tonks turned to watch her son, and accidentally elbowed a crystal goblet to the grass, where it broke neatly at the stem.

“Sorry!” she said at once. For some reason, tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Molly, I’m sorry.”

“It’s perfectly all right dear, no, don’t-“

Tonks had bent to pick up the pieces and cut her shaking hand. She swore. Blood blossomed. “Sorry!” she mumbled again.

“Go to the bathroom and wash it clean,” Mrs. Weasley said with a hint of exasperation. “You know Hermione is quite good at healing cuts.”

“Fleur is too,” said Tonks without thinking.

“That’s right,” agreed Mrs. Weasley, flapping her back to the house with patient hands. “It’s just down the hall.”

Tonks did not say ‘I know,’ or that she had been to the Burrow dozens of times growing up. She only went, hand in hand with herself to hide the blood from Teddy, who paused breathlessly before screaming with glee as Harry swooped down on him.

 _Harry is good with Teddy_ , Tonks thought absently. Then _of course…he’s Teddy’s godfather, isn’t he?_ It seemed so strange. Harry was only nineteen. _Just a kid_ , she thought absently. She hated that she thought that. Most of the time _she_ felt like the kid, playing at dress up. And then seeing Harry – his life so together – and still somehow handling this all better than she was…

It was just depressing.

Tonks was grateful to be able to escape to the bathroom and run her hand under the tap. It kept bleeding ferociously, probably only because of its placement on the soft meat of her palm. She could tell it was quite deep. Strange. It hadn’t even hurt when she had picked it up. Only the shock of the blood and the feeling of _doxy droppings, now you’ve done it_.

She made a mental note to sit at that place at dinner.

But being in the quiet, dark bathroom – she realized she hadn’t even bothered to light the lantern – made her feel like she could breathe properly for the first time. She knew, rationally, she was being stupid. All the people in the house knew her. And if they didn’t love her, they at least liked her very much. They welcomed her there. No one was thinking to themselves that she was an intruder. Bill and Fleur lived with her. Had asked her. She knew Charlie since she was a first year. So why did she feel like she was so unwelcome?

 _That’s you, idiot_ , her brain told her. _You’re not comfortable in your own skin. How could you think other people would be comfortable with you?_ Then followed a long and drawn out cursing war with herself as she thought up more and more ridiculous ways to say ‘get bent’ to her own conscience. She realized she had been in the bathroom a long time. She opened the door to check for people. The coast was clear.

Breathing out in relief, she went back to the garden, and was very gratified when Teddy knocked into her legs in a hug, and Fleur said: “Zer she ees! Tonks! Come ‘ere and let me look at your ‘and.”

Tonks opened her hand and everyone hissed in sympathy. There was an inch-long gash puckering the skin around it from her forefinger to the top of her palm. The area was already grey.

“Ze skin is dying fast,” said Fleur, clucking. “Eet will need to be sewn now. Bill, can you take Victoire?”

Bill took the baby and Tonks tried not to blush under the interested gaze of everyone as Fleur held her hand in her own and poked at it with her wand. The feeling of _sewing_ was so strong Tonks had to look away. She saw that Arthur was entering with a wan and crushed looking George. Somehow seeing George both strengthened her feeling of not belonging and eased her guilt at being a mess. George always had that effect.

“Thanks,” she told Fleur, examining the shiny white scar. It actually made her slightly happy the way it caught the light.

“Scars are cool,” said Charlie cheerfully, showing her his own hands, which were crisscrossed in identical marks.

“Very cool,” agreed Bill, rubbing his beard.

Tonks slipped out of the conversation as most of the Weasleys began rolling up their sleeves to compare, and Harry made them all laugh by shoving up his bangs. She made her way over to George.

“Hey Tonks,” said George, smiling for her. It looked like a painting done by a child. None of the muscles moved right, or in coordination.

“Wotcher,” she replied, but without her usual heart.

“Can I see your scar?” George asked.

Tonks showed him.

George pulled up his hair, showing her the mangled remains of his ear.

“Cool,” Tonks said promptly.

George smiled tiredly. “What?”

“Cool,” Tonks repeated.

“What?”

Tonks was a beat too slow to catch the joke as everyone around her roared with laughter.

“It’s funny because I’m deaf,” George shouted at her, and everyone, who had been so relieved to see George make any sort of joke at all, moved to the table to start dinner. Tonks took the seat of the repaired stemware, and Teddy was given a high chair next to her. 

Percy arrived, looking very pink and out of breath. “Sorry I’m late, all,” he said to the table. His eyes slid over Tonks, but he only smiled: "Hello, Tonks."

"Percy." Tonks knew Percy the very least; they had never been in the Order together, and they had never even met in the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred had died far above where Remus had.

“Where were you Perce?” asked George, with some of his old spark.

“Nowhere. Working. Shut up,” said Percy automatically.

“Audrey again?” asked Hermione angelically. She and Percy both worked at the Ministry.

Percy hastily took a gulp of tea and changed the topic to the weather while his mother beamingly piled his plate full of roast.

Dinner was good, home cooking that made Tonks eat herself sick, even after stuffing herself at lunch. After she had scarfed down a helping of nearly everything in sight, she concentrated on feeding Teddy, who served as a perfectly good excuse not to engage in conversation, though Charlie attempted several times to get her attention with:

“Tonks. Tonks. _Tonks._ What do you think about-“

And Bill and Fleur saying things down the table to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley like, “when Tonks makes lunch-“

Teddy was having a good time. He kept kicking his legs trying to squirm out of the seat to resume chasing the garden gnomes, but he also enjoyed the mashed potatoes and flinging them solidly at the back of Hermione’s bushy hair while Tonks apologized profusely and Teddy innocently worked his spoon into his mouth as if he had been doing so all along.

Near pudding, Teddy began to fuss, and Tonks, grateful for the distraction, picked him up.

“You can put him on my old bed,” said Charlie good-naturedly.

“But aren’t you sleeping here, darling?” his mother asked anxiously.

Charlie grimaced apologetically. “Sorry Mum, I drew the night shift for the nursery this week.”

“But you did it last week!”

“Luck of the draw.”

Tonks knew she was not the only one who didn’t buy it. Charlie was threatening to work himself to death – fiery or otherwise – as his way of coping with his own depression and grief over Fred.

Tonks missed her dad so suddenly and painfully that being around a family that still had a dad made her feel physically ill. She swooped Teddy up protestingly into her arms and hurried into the house. She took Teddy up the stairs as he began to cry crankily. She laid him on Charlie’s old twin bed to change his diaper and put him in pajamas. Her wandwork in this area was getting neater, and she stared around the room as Teddy began to suck on a pacifier contentedly as he was lifted and powdered and dressed again.

Charlie’s room was actually two rooms, in a fashion. There was a folding wall that Mr. Weasley had transfigured out of a curtain that could be pulled across, turning one small room into two tiny rooms, each with a twin bed. The wall was currently pushed back like an accordion, and each half of the room was vastly different. Bill’s half of the room was mostly blue, with metal band posters and large stacks of textbooks gathering dust, though Tonks would never mention the dust to Mrs. Weasley. Bill had also liked models of things, and she could see several famous tombs and temples in perfect replicas where he had built them with crafting glue and left them floating in a corner.

Charlie’s half of the room was exactly as Tonks remembered it when she had last seen it their seventh year. It was mostly greens and browns. There were dozens of books on dragons, a patchwork quilt like Teddy’s own, and even half-dissected models of dragon organs. There was a collection of letters from the famous magizoologist Newt Scamander, whom Charlie had corresponded with since he was twelve years old. Each letter was carefully tied with twine to the rest. Charlie’s old broomstick was also mounted on two hooks to a wall. It didn’t fly anymore, after giving up its ghost in Charlie’s third year. He had lost his first Gryffindor game as seeker on that broom that year, when he had been zooming all out to grab the snitch and had easily been surpassed by a quaffle toss.

Tonks herself had chipped in two galleons when the desperate quidditch captain came around in secret to buy Charlie a new broom. Charlie had gone so red in the face at the presentation from his teammates she thought he might cry.

She turned back to Teddy. He was blinking sleepily around the pacifier, his sweaty hair drying and looking very content to lay on Charlie’s bed. She scooted him upwards so he was on a pillow, but did not tuck him in, in case he suffocated. He reclined happily but allowed Tonks to cover him with a knit afghan over his legs before his eyelids drooped closed.

Tonks wandered to Bill’s side of the room, loath to go back to the party, but also curious about the relics Bill kept in his childhood bedroom.

There were neat stacks of parchment sewn together into a book. Tonks flipped one open, curious, then grinned ruefully. It was Bill’s O.W.L. notes. The next book was his N.E.W.T. notes. There were also several book series lined up along the back of the tiny desk. Tonks flipped through one and smiled at the familiar flicker of spell. It was an Interactive Idiometric Glamor (IIG). These books were especially popular among younger witches and wizards for their immersive glamor. Spells would force the reader to live the story real time, with visuals, sounds of voices, and even smells. This series seemed to be a comedy about a muggle named Martin Miggs. Tonks read a few pages and felt the prickling of shame as Martin’s boss yelled at him at work. Behind him, several owls flew past the window.

“I loved those, as a kid,” said a voice, and Tonks snapped the book guiltily shut, spinning on the spot.

Bill stood in the doorway, arms folded easily.

“Sorry,” she murmured, not wanting to wake Teddy.

“For what?”

“Snooping,” she admitted with a guilty grin.

“I would, if I was at your house. I plan to,” teased Bill.

“It’s not the same,” Tonks objected.

“No?”

“You were always Charlie’s brother.”

“So were Percy, Fred and George-“ still they were a set, even as Bill winced.

“They were younger. I didn’t care about them,” said Tonks, her mouth twisting.

“Thanks,” grinned Bill.

“You were…well…” there was no other word for it: “cool.”

“Thanks. So were you.”

“No, I mean,” and Tonks blushed heavily. “I mean _really_ cool. I was…totally in awe of you.”

“You’re cute.”

“Thanks,” said Tonks sarcastically.

“No, I mean, in school. When you got older. I sort of…liked you.”

“You _what_?” Tonks was so flabbergasted to be in Charlie’s old room hearing Charlie’s older brother say the thing she had daydreamed him saying every day between year three and five (until Bill had graduated) that she went a brilliant blood red that spilled out to the ends of her hair.

Bill laughed even more heartily, and Tonks cursed her stupid metamorphmagus genetics for giving her away so spectacularly as she fought her hair back to mouse brown again.

“I mean, you were younger. You were Charlie’s friend. I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“You’ve made it _very_ weird,” she informed him severely.

“Well…I thought you and Charlie might-“

It was Tonks’ turn to laugh.

“In all fairness!” Bill said loudly over her laughter, “This was before we knew!”

Teddy woke up with a weak, thready, tired cry.

“Sorry love,” said Tonks at once, going to him, returning his pacifier, and stroking his forehead until his eyes closed.

“Come on, I’ll show you the roof.”

“I’ve seen the roof,” Tonks objected.

“Yeah?” Bill seemed impressed in spite of himself. “I thought it was just my spot.”

“Charlie discovered it our second year,” said Tonks, amused. “And I’m sure all of your siblings did, at some point or another.”

“Probably,” agreed Bill ruefully. “Oldest child syndrome. Thinking you’ve invented everything.”

But Tonks followed him up the six flights of stairs to the attic where only Ron’s room was, and they both squeezed themselves out of the tiny window onto the flat roof outside.

“That’s getting to be tight,” Bill wheezed, pulling his leg out after him.

“Well you’ve got to stop bulking up,” she teased.

“And you’ve got to start,” he said seriously.

Tonks, who had already spread her robes out and sat down on the shingles, so dizzyingly high above the field but offering such a spectacular view of the stars, squinted up in the darkness at Bill, disconcerted. She hadn’t expected him to be…serious.

Up until this point, she had felt at ease. Normal. Like she was with a friend. Like Charlie, she had known Bill a long time. They had never really hung out alone before, but she hadn’t found it odd in the ten minutes or so they just had. Now, though, she shivered. It had nothing to do with the cooling summer evening.

“Hey,” she said, awkwardly.

Bill settled next to her. “I’m serious.”

Tonks thought of Sirius in that moment. The ever perpetual retort on his lips. She looked away, at her pale knees in the starlight. She couldn’t believe she missed him too. Missed him more than she missed Remus at the moment. It was such a disservice. And yet she couldn’t help but be glad they were together.

She had felt his absence, when Remus looked at her. Like maybe there was pieces of him left behind in a second cousin: second best.

“You’ve been weird,” Bill said at last, his robes off and under him on the roof.

“Weird how?”

“Weird tonight.”

“Have I?”

“Yeah. You haven’t been talking much.”

“I’m just shy.”

Bill laughed out loud. His laugh was booming and a few people from the garden still picking over food looked up at them. Fleur waved.

They waved back while Tonks grinned in spite of herself. “Yeah, well,” she said unwillingly.

“Well what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know?”

“Don’t know,” agreed Tonks.

“How to act?” guessed Bill.

“I don’t know,” said Tonks again.

“You can be yourself,” said Bill, amusement still lingering in his voice. “You don’t have to be on your best behavior or anything for us.”

“I’m not,” said Tonks, a little stung. “I’m just…”

“Just?”

“Like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like _this_ ,” Tonks stressed, yanking on her own hair. “I guess…I guess this is just how I am now. I’m not…”

“Not?” prodded Bill gently.

“The same.”

“Yeah,” said Bill, fingering the scars on his face. “I know what you mean.”

“But if I’m a pain or anything,” said Tonks, realization creeping horribly upon her. “You can just kick me out. It doesn’t matter. I haven’t you know, settled in or anything.”

This was both true and untrue. She had settled into routine. But her room was still blank.

“Stop it,” said Bill sharply.

“Stop what?”

“Pushing everyone away.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You _only_ do that.”

“What do you mean?” Tonks was getting irritable now. She, like most humans on the planet, did not appreciate having her flaws pointed out. It meant she wasn’t as good at hiding the damage as she might like to believe.

“Anytime someone is remotely nice to you, you check over your shoulder for someone else.”

“No-“

“And then when we tell you we like you for you, you say you’re not the same. Like a warning.”

“It is a warning! I’m not the same.”

“For now.”

“For _always_ ,” said Tonks angrily. “I lost my _dad_.”

“And your husband,” prompted Bill quietly.

Tonks felt her face heat with fury. So he had been laying the breadcrumbs for _this_. To try to make her talk about Remus. She couldn’t _talk_ about Remus. She didn’t even understand how _she_ felt about Remus. Why couldn’t he understand that losing her dad hurt worse? Knowing he died painfully? Alone? Not like Remus – a whisper – just in front of her – he had _her_. And her dad had _no one._

“Just drop it,” she told him fiercely.

“Dora-“

“ _DON’T YOU CALL ME BY HIS NAME_ ,” she bellowed, suddenly staggering to her feet on the roof. Bill reached out a hand to steady her, but she yanked it away and turned on the spot. She appeared on the first floor again in Charlie and Bill’s room, staring at the sleeping Teddy. Every muscle in her body was screaming at her to _run, run, RUN!_

But where to? If she ran home, she knew instinctively her time at Shell Cottage would end.

And if she took Teddy to Shell Cottage, she would have to wait miserably for Bill and Fleur to come home.

And if she simply _left_ – took the floo and left to anywhere – then they’d all probably come after her. Maybe she could go tell Charlie she wanted to live with him in Slovenia. But that would be hard, because she would have to apparate at the Slovenian border waystation to get back into the UK every time she wanted to see Mum (floo networks didn’t extend very far without a transfer point). And Teddy was too young to apparate. So to even get to Charlie’s, she would go by broomstick – several days. Weeks, maybe. Or there was the train – she knew magical trains left from different stations. But she didn’t want to move to a different country.

Even if her meltdown _had_ been incredibly embarrassing.

So she did the next best thing without waking Teddy and without giving into her heavy flight instinct: she locked herself in the bathroom.

It was such a very _teenager_ thing to do, it almost made her unlock the door and go out to find the Weasleys and apologize. But instead she climbed in the tub and shut the shower curtain and cast a disillusionment charm on herself so that she matched the shower tile. Off-white, and old wallpaper.

Tonks was no great crier. She breathed angrily into her hands pushing her hair out of her face, feeling her own muscles shivering spasmodically. She had kept her name for a reason. She had never been Nymphadora _Lupin_. Always her name. Always Tonks.

She wanted the tears to start. Wanted the cork out of the elder wine. But instead she only shivered in the bathtub. She heard people on the landing.

“Bill?” Fleur. Only Fleur said his name like that.

“Yeah. That was my fault.”

“What happened?” That was Charlie. She was sure of it.

There was a loud, angry sigh. She could almost hear Bill squeezing his forearms with his hands: a favorite pose of his, arms crossed, fingers digging into the skin. “I pushed too hard,” he admitted quietly.

“What?” Fleur again.

“I…I tried to get her to talk about Remus.”

“You did more than that.” Charlie’s voice was hard, angry. Tonks had never heard Charlie get angry with Bill. Charlie was always easygoing. Cheerful Charlie. She was both touched and embarrassed it was on her behalf.

“I…I tried to get her to open up.”

“What did you do?” Fleur accused.

Bill’s voice was muffled; he had passed a hand across his beard. “I told her she pushed people away.”

“She does,” said Charlie impatiently. “And?”

“And…I called her Dora.”

“ _Bill_ ,” groaned Charlie. “You never,  _ever_ do that!”

“I _know_ ,” Bill snapped. “Don’t call her Nymphadora.”

“Bill, that was Remus’ name for ‘er,” said Fleur in an undertone. “Eet was not ‘er name.”

“Her mum calls her Dora.”

“Her _Mum_ , Bill,” Charlie stressed, still obviously upset. “And her dad!"

"I didn't think of that."

"And now she could be anywhere!”

“I don’t think she’d leave Teddy,” said Fleur thoughtfully. “Per’aps we can search around the ‘ouse.”

The footsteps moved off, and Tonks took her hand from over her mouth and nose. Nailmarks were etched into her cheeks. Fingertips touched wet skin.

She didn’t know at what point she had started crying, but she knew now she wouldn’t be able to stop. All the hate and bitterness she felt towards Bill – towards Remus, really – came flooding up and stung her eyes fiercely. And then came the sweet soft grief of losing her father; the simple clean _loss_. The old memories of tag and hide and seek. Or playing the game in public, while Tonks giggled in the guise of a little old lady in a crowded shopping center, watching her dad grow ever more frantic, accost ever more people. The feeling of relief when he realized she was laughing, and how she had hugged him tightly and they had gotten soft pretzels and a coke on the way home.

And just the _misery_ of losing Remus. Of Teddy never having those memories. And of her never having more than Teddy. Tonks had been a lonely only child, jealous of Charlie’s siblings. She had told Remus she wanted a dozen. He had temporized they might have four. He had always liked groups of four.

The howl building inside of her came out in the first, wretched, racking sob. Her teeth hit her knees; she tucked her forehead forward, the skin of her legs cool on her flushed face. Without her noticing, the disillusionment charm wavered and fell away, her concentration broken.

There was a hesitant knock at the door, and she knew it would be pointless to hide anymore. To avoid any sort of further mortification, she climbed out of the tub and sat on the floor instead, leaning up against the cabinet around the sink.

The door swung open with a slow creak.

Evidently, the whole Weasley clan had been searching in pairs, because both Ron and Harry were staring at her tear-streaked face. She hid her face in her knees and mumbled – very much more like a teenager than they were – “Hi.”

“Tonks,” said Harry anxiously, glancing at Ron.

“Yeah. I’ll go get Charlie,” said Ron at once.

And then it was just Harry and Tonks in the bathroom, and somehow it was easier for Tonks to raise her face to him.

“Wotcher,” Harry joked weakly.

Tonks smiled all watery. “Hey Harry. Long time since we met in your aunt and uncle’s house, wasn’t it?”

Harry smiled back, looking relieved. “Yeah. Your hair was purple then too.”

Tonks hadn’t realized she had been turning her hair any color at all and she relaxed her concentration in surprise, letting it bleed back to normal.

Harry seemed to think it was his turn to attempt to comfort her. “Is…is this about…Lupin?” he asked rather awkwardly.

Tonks shrugged. “I guess. And Dad.”

Harry shuffled; he was squatting. He sat down on one hip at a time, then folded his arms around his knees, leaning up against the tub across from her. “But…well…you still have Teddy,” he offered lamely. “And your mum.”

“I know,” said Tonks quietly, guiltily.

“Right,” said Harry, casting around. “And…erm…”

“Harry, don’t.” And he looked relieved to be stopped. Tonks bumped his leg with hers. “Tell me about what's up with you, instead.”

“Oh, right,” Harry looked nervous. “Well…I’m taking the exam you know. Now that it’s June.”

“The exam?” said Tonks blankly.

“Yeah. The auror exam.”

“Right.” Tonks remembered being more nervous than she had ever been for N.E.W.T.s. “When?”

“Ron and I signed up for next week. Last slots.”

“Mistake,” said Tonks sympathetically. “I did that. Would have been better to go first.”

“Wish I’d known,” muttered Harry darkly.

“Well, it won’t be so bad, once you get there,” said Tonks.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because I’ll be-“ She stopped mid-sentence. She had almost said she would be there to look after them. Show them the ropes.

“Yeah?” Harry said, a bit more eagerly.

They were interrupted by Bill, Fleur, and Charlie. Fleur was holding a sleeping Teddy in her arms.

“Tonks, I’m so sorry,” Bill said at once.

“No, forget it, I was being a baby,” she returned, staggering to her feet with the hand up that Bill had offered her.

“You were not,” said Charlie hotly.

Tonks dropped Bill's hand and gaze at once, content to stare at her feet instead.

“I would like to go ‘ome,” said Fleur.

“Me too,” agreed Tonks at once.

“And me,” sighed Bill.

Tonks took Teddy from Fleur and they took the floo first. She could barely look Mrs. Weasley in the face to take the floo powder from the pot.

“Shell Cottage,” she cried. And then blissfully, she had to deal with Teddy until she fell into bed.


	5. Une Lettre

The letter came the next day with a barn owl. Tonks was baffled when it was for her. Shell Cottage was remote; Bill and Fleur didn’t even get  _The Daily Prophet_  since after the war it had become more and more unreliable. Tonks, in her month at the cottage, had never even received one letter. So to wake to see a moon-faced barn owl tapping on her window surprised and confused her. She had gotten up and let it in, ready to take the letter to Fleur or Bill, only to stare blankly at her own name:

_Tonks. Shell Cottage._

She kept the letter in her room and thought about it all through breakfast with her mum. She opened it at the table for lunch, and Fleur craned her neck to see what it was.

“Who ees it from?” she demanded.

“Harry,” said Tonks blankly. Harry had never written to her before.

“’Arry? ‘Arry who? ‘Arry Potter?”

“Yes of course, how many Harrys are there?” said Tonks irritably.

“What does ‘e want?”

“He’s…he’s…” but Tonks was growing too furious to speak. The note from Harry was in essence a thank you letter for offering to show him and Ron around in a few weeks after they had been assigned to their desks in the auror department.

She was going to kill Harry. Notwithstanding that the boy had survived the killing curse twice – and some people were starting to think he was impervious to it – she was going to try her hardest. Bloody hell.

“You are going back to work?” Fleur said happily. “Ooh, Tonks, zat is wonderful! I’m so ‘appee.”

“Wonderful,” Tonks muttered darkly.

When Bill came home, he showed Tonks Ron’s bewildered letter to him, telling Bill to thank Tonks for her generous offer.

"He says he knows it’s been hard to come back,” said Bill with a mischievous smile at Tonks’ murderous glare. “And that he’s really grateful that you’d do it for him and Harry.”

“I’m  _not_ ,” Tonks started to protest, but Bill steamrollered her cheerfully.

“I brought home wine for the occasion.”

“Oh Bill, zis is my favorite,” enthused Fleur.

Tonks ground her teeth bitterly.

In bed, however, as she lay staring up at the sheets of white moonlight on the white walls and mosquito netting of her bed, she reflected with annoyance that it really was the perfect opportunity. It had seemed  _impossible_  to go back to work. She had resigned herself (with anger and frustration) at being a stay-at-home Mum. Or getting a job in a shop somewhere, wasting the years and time and effort she had put into auror training.

But Harry  _Potter_  coming to work - and even Ron Weasley - was enough of a name draw to justify things. It provided the perfect excuse as to why Tonks had been waiting so long: for them to graduate and be assigned. And it coincided almost to the day with Fleur’s own maternity leave, so long as Harry and Ron both passed the exam. Tonks snorted to herself. Harry was famous for his Defense work, and doubtless no one would dare to fail either of them. Despite not even having completed formal education, they had already been offered positions in the auror training program.

When Tonks woke up the next morning, she blinked at the sunlight a moment, confused. Then she realized the strange feeling she felt was the feeling of surety. She had lost the feeling of being sure long ago. But this morning it seemed as if she had decided everything during the night and was resolved to go back to work when Harry and Ron started.  

She started a fire in the grate cheerfully and picked up Teddy, who was growing used to floo travel, even if he didn’t like it. Before she left, she even put the kettle on for Fleur. She arranged several options of teabags on the counter one-handed and left out Fleur’s favorite delicate blue china cup as a breakfast surprise.

“Hello darling,” said her mother when she had ducked out the other end of the floo network. Teddy was not screaming, but he did wriggle impatiently to be let down to run around his familiar stomping ground, his hair going teal as soon as his feet touched the floor.

“Hallo Mum,” said Tonks cheerfully.

Her mother stopped, hands on her hips. Andie Tonks would never demean herself so much as to wear an apron because she was so neat at her cleanup spells of spills (and had to be, after raising her clumsy daughter), but she might as well have been holding a wooden spoon and wearing a gingham apron for all the stereotypical posturing. “What’s up with you?” she asked suspiciously.

“I just feel good today,” said Tonks, still cheerful. It wasn’t like she had cured her depression overnight, after all. But it was incredibly refreshing to have a plan in mind. It would doubtlessly be difficult and complicated and frustrating in its own right, but it was a plan.

“How did the dinner with the Weasleys go?”

Tonks’ enthusiasm deflated quite a bit. “Oh,” she said, in a slightly less chipper voice as she helped set the plates on the table. “It was all right.”

“Just all right? Why?”

“Oh,” and Tonks didn’t know what to say, so she changed the subject. “I’ve decided to go back to work.”

Andie looked up, shocked out of frying the bacon. “What did you say?”

“Well,” said Tonks, as if she hadn’t heard her mother. “You know, Ron and Harry took the A.C.A.T.” A.C.A.T. was the Auror Course Application Test. Anyone who failed was not certified or assigned to work as an auror. It was a gruelingly hard test, and Tonks had almost failed it when she had screwed up her stealth. Only her natural proclivity for disguise had saved her score.

Andie knew her daughter well enough not to spook her, so she played along. “And?”

“Well, I mean, they’re going to take it this week.”

“And?”

“Well, if they pass. And you know it’s still five weeks or so to grade them-“

“I remember.” Tonks had been a nervous wreck those five weeks. She had filled all her time flat hunting to take her mind off the painfulness of the waiting.

“Well,” said Tonks, rather unwillingly. “Harry said it would be good if I was around to…you know…show him the ropes.”

“I think that’d be wonderful,” said her mother warmly.

“So, yeah,” said Tonks. Though she hadn’t actually explained it all very well. “I guess…I’m going back to work in six weeks.”

“That’s exceptionally good news, darling.”

“Thanks,” said Tonks, and she grew more cheerful immediately.

She told Fleur much the same when she got back home. As if it had all been a natural choice, instead of an embarrassing half-assed conversation on a bathroom floor after a major meltdown.

“Zis ees perfect!” Fleur declared. “I also go back in six weeks. You could not ‘ave planned better.”

Tonks opened her mouth to say she hadn’t planned it at all, but shut it, discomfited by Fleur’s wink and knowing arm around her shoulders in a half squeezed hug.

“Should we…floopool or something?” laughed Tonks.

“Floo-pool?” Fleur frowned over the word.

“It’s…sort of like when two people share a fire grate, but get out at different stops.”

“I was going to apparate,” said Fleur doubtfully.

Tonks laughed. “Yes. I realized that as soon as I said it. I’m just getting so used to doing it with Teddy.”

“Ah, we should tell Molly,” said Fleur at once. “We can work out ze schedule for ze babies.”

“Oh, well, er,” stammered Tonks. After her mortifying time at the Weasleys, seeing Mrs. Weasley before the twelve of nope to never seemed unappealing. She had hoped (pointlessly, she knew) to never have to encounter any Weasley again. Except Bill. And probably Charlie. And now there was Ron. And-

Tonks sighed heavily. “I suppose,” she admitted. “Should we go now?”

Fleur nodded decisively. “Victoire should be up from her nap anyways.”

“Hell of a way to wake up,” Tonks muttered, but Fleur only laughed.

They took the floo together, even though it was rather a tight squeeze. Tonks could smell roses and almonds, Fleur’s hair stuck to her face as they spun tightly together. She was embarrassed. She wasn’t sure  _what_  she might smell like, but she was positive it wasn’t as scented or as lovely.

The Burrow was deserted. During the week, only Mrs. Weasley was home. Tonks wasn’t sure if she was upstairs or if she had gone out. Suddenly, their position seemed very tenuous and awkward. Neither were related to Mrs. Weasley, and they were both standing in her living room.

Teddy squirmed to get down, breaking Tonks’ concentration. She let him down to wander about the room happily. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought his blondeish hair had turned slightly coppery. Victoire was squalling, and Fleur was bouncing her.

They heard surprised footsteps on the stairs, and they both wandered around the fireplace to the staircase to peer upwards. Halfway down the stairs, the footsteps vanished. Then Mrs. Weasley apparated in with a small pop, and she looked absolutely and utterly shocked to see them.

“Fleur! Tonks! What’s wrong? Is it Bill?” she asked, her face ashen.

“NO!” Tonks almost yelled.

“No, of course not,” said Fleur at the same time.

Mrs. Weasley sagged a bit. “Well then,” she said doubtfully, automatically taking her granddaughter from Fleur. “Come into the kitchen for a cup of tea.”

The way she was glancing over Tonks made Tonks blush, like maybe all of this was her fault.

“Molly, we ‘ave good news,” said Fleur instead, as they followed Mrs. Weasley back into the kitchen.

“Really?” and Mrs. Weasley looked so desperate for any good news, Tonks felt marginally less alone in her grief and confusion.

“Yes,” and this time she picked up the thread. “Er…I mean…I told Ron and Harry…I told them I’d help show them around at work.”

“At work?” she repeated dumbly.

“Yes, eesn’t it wonderful?” cried Fleur, settling with boneless grace at the table in a mismatched chair so similar to her own. “Tonks is going back to being an auror.”

Mrs. Weasley gaped. “Oh.” She did not say ‘wonderful.’

Tonks felt her face fall.

“An’ we have come to ask you about watching Victoire and Teddy.” The way Fleur said it, the two might have been twins.

Mrs. Weasley’s face changed all at once to a keen, sharp sort of joy that made Tonks realize how very, very lonely Mrs. Weasley was during her days. She wondered if she had been upstairs cleaning the dust of Bill’s shelves for want of something to do.

“I would  _love_  that,” she enthused. “Every day is perfectly fine. I’ll get up early, and cook you girls breakfast before work. Would seven be all right? Bill should come too! It’ll be wonderful!”

“Oh,” said Tonks, a little embarrassed. “My Mum also said-“

“We thought you might split ze time between you,” Fleur cut in gracefully.

Mrs. Weasley looked mutinous, and Tonks realized she probably wanted to know why they couldn’t each just give their own offspring to their mothers or mother-in-law instead of forcing Mrs. Weasley to lose out.

“It’s a lot to do, every day,” said Tonks apologetically.

“I did raise seven children,” said Mrs. Weasley frostily.

“Yes, an’ we like zem,” said Fleur, equally coolly.

Tonks laughed nervously, hoping to break the tension. “I just mean,” she stammered when both of them looked at her, “my mum is…you know…alone now too. She hasn’t got anyone either.”

Mrs. Weasley’s face softened. “Of course,” she said. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” She paused a moment. “We were at school together, you know.”

“What?” Tonks had never considered this.

“Oh, she was a few years behind me,” said Mrs. Weasley airily. “And in a different house, of course.”

 _Slytherin_ , Tonks heard.

“But I knew who she was.”

“It’s a small school,” agreed Tonks, not sure where Mrs. Weasley was going with this.

Mrs. Weasley was silent a moment. “Very well,” she sighed heavily. “I suppose I can take them just three times a week.”

Fleur and Tonks exchanged sardonic smiles. She had already volunteered for more shifts. “Monday, Wednesday, Friday?” Fleur guessed wryly.

“Yes. And when do you start?”

“Six weeks from now,” said Tonks quickly. “First week in August.”

“Do you mind traveling with Ron and Harry on their first day?”

“If…if they want to,” stammered Tonks.

“Of course they’ll want to. And they’ll wear their uniforms,” clucked Mrs. Weasley with obvious pride.

“Er,” said Tonks, who never wore the uniform unless they were under review or going to a specific ceremony that required it. “Right.”

“Well that’s just lovely then,” beamed Mrs. Weasley. “And I’ll go ahead and whip something up for lunch.”

There was absolutely no way to refuse, so they both smiled ruefully and Fleur put Victoire to her breast.

“Tonks, dear, why don’t you make sure this doesn’t burn while I run upstairs and see if I can’t unpack some old baby things in the attic.”

“Right now?” said Tonks in alarm, not managing to catch the spell before it ended that kept the chicken sizzling in the pan and having to stand up to do it by hand.

“Oh, well Teddy’s high chair is down here, of course. Arthur got it down. And I thought it would be good to get down the old levitating playpen and some toys.”

Fleur only smiled. “Zat would be lovely, I zink,” she said evilly, smiling at Tonks.

Tonks flashed her frantic eyes as Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen, leaving Tonks to try to not burn or break anything, both goals she failed at within ten minutes.

“Oh, let me,” sighed Fleur, after she had burped Victoire. “You ‘old ‘er, yes?”

“Yes,” said Tonks gratefully, and when she was handed Victoire to cradle, she realized this was the first time she had held the baby since the day she was born. There had always been Bill or Fleur to hold her before, and Tonks was left stunned, staring at the perfect face of the smoky blue eyes, slowly resolving on a color, and at the perfect tiny mole by her left eye.

Victoire was so lovely and so small and smelled so nice, Tonks couldn’t help but bury her face in the feather soft peach fuzz of wispy hair at her scalp.

“She is rather good, yes?” Fleur said casually from the stovetop.

“She’s wonderful,” said Tonks.

“You ‘ave not liked her,” said Fleur, her back turned to Tonks.

“That’s not true!” Tonks said quickly.

“You ‘ave not held her.”

“I…you and Bill…it’s your…I mean…”

“You ‘ave not even asked to ‘old her.”

Tonks buried her face back into Victoire for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said finally.

Fleur turned around. She looked upset, but Tonks wasn’t exactly sure why. “I want you very much to feel at ‘ome,” she said quietly.

“I do!” said Tonks quickly. But they both knew it was a lie.

Fleur only turned back to the stovetop, and both of them were glad when Mrs. Weasley returned, her arms laden with baby things she wanted to show them.


	6. Le Retour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you THANK you for reviews and notes. And everyone has been so patient for this chapter!

               The weeks bled the way Tonks remembered Remus bleeding: quickly, and then slow. Time dripped beneath her fingers as her panic grew. Hours stretched as Fleur took them shopping while Victoire and Teddy stayed with Mrs. Weasley.

                “You cannot wear what you ‘ave in your closet.”

                “No one at work cares what I wear.”

                “You sound like Bill.”

                “Bill’s right!”

                “Please, do not tell ‘im zat, it will set a precedent.”

                Tonks laughed dutifully even as her stomach twisted. She was wearing non-ripped black jeans. It had been a long time since she bought new jeans, and these were the first that weren’t ripped.

                “I hate them.”

                “Why?”

                “They’re too hot.”

                Fleur only smiled, victorious, and somehow Tonks was hoodwinked into several pairs of black tights and loose linen pants that ballooned at the ankles. One pair was a bright, hot pink. She would wear it with a set of black robes. It made Fleur extremely happy.

                Tonks relaxed a little. If it made Fleur happy, it couldn’t be all bad. Fleur’s taste was excellent, and while shopping for herself was exhausting and impossible – she didn’t really care what she wore, anyway – shopping to make Fleur happy was a tangible, achievable goal.

                By the end of the day, Tonks had put a dent in her bank account and a smile on Fleur’s face.

                “We must get your auror uniform tailored.”

                “Tailored? Why?”

                “You are smaller now.”

                “No I’m not.” She hated the way Fleur said it. Like without Remus she was less of a person. And she hated it because it seemed true.

                After Remus had died, Tonks felt like…not like a part of her was missing. The opposite of that. The opposite of George, really. She had felt…relieved? But also felt guilty. And also felt devastated. And also felt furious. And she felt all of it at once, which made her feel that she was going to inevitably hurt someone by being honest, and so she folded in on herself. She held herself together. She felt her arms scream with the effort of it. Breathing was agony. A hot, rasping fire in, and an expelling of black smoke out as she held the hurt inside. Every second of every day was the knowledge that if she thought of  _anything_  she might want to tell Remus – as a friend, as a lover…as a  _wife_  – was destroyed. And the knowledge was a little death again and again. And she gripped her elbows more tightly and leaked her darkness onto the coverlet, and then of course, what with breathing and keeping her spine from not bending inwards in the screaming vortex, it was too difficult to get up and smile for people. Too difficult to raise her arms high enough to brush her hair. Too difficult to make breakfast when the act of eating was physically painful.

                “We will see what Molly can do, yes?” Fleur said, her eyes on Tonks.

                Tonks relaxed a tiny bit of her iron grip and nodded.

                Fleur reached out and twined her fingers through Tonks’ hand, and at that moment it was everything Tonks needed: an anchor, a gesture of sympathy, a moment of understanding. But mostly: a hand to hold.

 

* * *

 

                “I feel stupid,” said Tonks in annoyance, viciously yanking a hairbrush through neck-length mouse-brown hair.

                “You do not look stupid,” said Fleur serenely from her perch in front of the vanity.

                Tonks glared at her in the mirror, and a silent spell caught the hairbrush from pulling out more handfuls of her hair.

                “You should not lose zis much ‘air,” said Fleur patiently, her spell bewitching the hairbrush to continue its task more gently – from the ends up.

                “You could have – what do you call them – one of those stomach holes,” said Bill cheerfully, popping his head in.

                “Bill!” yelped Tonks, pulling her robes shut. She wasn’t naked, exactly. Just…surprised.

                “Oh relax,” chided Fleur. “You are in ze undersuit already.”

                 _Yes, well_ , Tonks thought glumly. The undersuit was just the problem. The auror uniform was made for dueling first, and recognition second. That meant that it was maroon and black, and the undersuit was a full-bodied romper with tight trousers and bunches near the calves, which stopped in official looking black leather boots that were more costly than the rest of the uniform put together. Some aurors wore the boots all the time to justify the expense. Some, like Tonks, kept them carefully folded in the back of the closet and didn’t dust them out unless strictly mandated. When Moody was the head of the auror department, he had never bothered with all the pomp of uniforms. When Scrimgeur was, he had insisted upon them in uniform when they went to ceremonies. Something about withstanding general fear and giving people something united to look towards.

                Tonks and Fleur were both getting ready in Bill and Fleur’s room so that Fleur could sit at the vanity and give Tonks advice while Tonks vibrated hard enough from nerves to sweat through her sleep shirt. Bill had taken the two sleepy infants early to his mother’s bright and early the Monday morning. Tonks was incredibly envious: Fleur and Bill would be apparating to work together.

                “Ron says he and Harry are coming by in half an hour, if it’s alright,” Bill said, throwing himself on the bed. “They’re not even dressed yet.”

                “Lucky them,” muttered Tonks, blushing scarlet.

                Tonks had thought all the uniform business was a bunch of guff. She usually weaseled her way out of ceremonies by going on dangerous Order missions. Now she was glaring at Bill sitting comfortably cross legged on the bed in  _ripped jeans_  and a black tee, his arm half covered in a series of needlessly complex leather straps of a wand sheath. He thought it made him look cool. Tonks hated that he was right.

                She tore her gaze away from noticing how big his arm was –  _seriously when did he work out_  - and stared moodily down at her own stomach looking puffy and sad in the undersuit, which was sleeveless (sleeves got in the way of spells, but full length black undershirts were allowed in winter months) but also encircled her neck like a choker. Despite all her weight loss, her baby weight clung stubbornly and softly about her. She absolutely hated it.

                She felt a choking sense of dread all of a sudden descend on her, past her prickling anxiety and her thready excitement. “I can’t,” she said firmly, and reached for the zipper.

                “You  _can_ ,” said Fleur just as firmly, standing up and brandishing a makeup brush. “I will ‘elp.”

                “That’s not what I-“ Tonks began, but then the brush hit her full in the face and she coughed.

                By the time Fleur was telling her to “Look up, no, more,” and Bill was guiding her fumbling arms through the short jacket robe behind her, Tonks felt like a doll dressed up and ready to go. The black belt to match the boots was firmly fastened, and her wand was slid home into its sheath with a sense of familiarity that made working her hands into wrist length leather guards more than worth it, despite their sweat.

                Her hair had picked up a subtle auburn gleam that matched the marron. Fleur had applied black eyeliner to match and Tonks thought it looked like battle makeup.

                She grinned feebly at Bill who winked and clapped a hand to her shoulder. Fleur twined an arm through hers. Together, they both led her out of the bedroom before Tonks could protest.

                In the kitchen, bearing gifts, were Harry and Ron. Both were wearing their own auror uniforms, and both looked incredibly nervous.

                It looked much better on Harry than on Ron. For one thing, Ron’s hair clashed horribly with the maroon, and he kept tugging at the neck collar. For another, Harry was slight and muscled from Seeking, and Ron was skinny and gangling, letting the undersuit – so trim – hang off of him awkwardly so that it was wearing Ron far more than the other way around.

                “Hey,” said Ron, sounding fervently grateful. “You look great.”

                “Thanks so much for doing this,” Harry added in the same breath.

                Tonks couldn’t help but smile. “You guys look good,” she said. “Thanks for bringing breakfast,” she added, taking a plate of toast that Ron had buttered.

                “My mum,” he admitted, his ears going red. “She says…” he blushed more. “To have a good…first day…and…and Bill cut your hair,” he tacked on, rather gracelessly.

                All of them laughed, even Ron.

                “So let me tell you how the first day’s going to go,” Tonks began, and she launched into it, feeling more confident than she had expected, and feeling simultaneously comforted as she talked out loud. She was aware of Fleur and Bill holding hands and glancing significantly at one another, but Tonks was too excited to care much, at this point. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed work.

                Fleur and Bill saw them all off, and Tonks thought it best to get them into the Ministry by Floo their first day.

                “Training isn’t much like the real thing. Training's harder, for one,” Tonks said conversationally as they strolled out of the fireplace into the long hall of fireplaces. The atrium was green and beautiful. The new War Heroes fountain glinted in the sunlight filtering down through the far off glass roof.

                “Training was harder?” asked Ron, relieved.

                “Sure. You had to be there all day every day. Be expected to take notes and do assignments every day,” said Tonks, nodding to a few surprised people as they passed. Several people raised hands in passing, but being bracketed between Harry and Ron, both taller, was like being allowed to walk through a sea of anonymity, peoples’ jaws dropping in awe when they saw who she was with.

                “You guys are famous,” she told them.

                Harry rolled his eyes.

                Ron’s ears went pink.

                “We’ll start in the offices, I’ll show you my desk,” Tonks said, mostly for her own benefit, but when she saw how nervous and wordlessly grateful the two boys were, she felt better. They were, after all, only nineteen. Sometimes she forgot that.

                The warren maze of desks in the auror’s offices were in a cubicle city on the second floor. She noticed that Ron stood a bit taller, obviously on firmer ground now that he recognized his surroundings. She was vaguely aware that his father worked somewhere well above them, but had never been to see Mr. Weasley at work. He had always been more important than she was, especially when he was made head of the office of Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects three years before. Mr. Weasley’s office was such a mouthful it had been come to be nicknamed “DetCo” for Detection and Confiscation. Tonks was happy to hear he was still doing well, and considered a big senior nowadays. The whole Weasley family was on the rise.

                “Tonks!” surprised cries from coworkers she hadn’t seen for a year made her blush.

                “Tonks! It’s Tonks!” followed her as she strode determinedly, trailed by Harry and Ron, to her desk around the corner. It was a pretty good desk. Rather smelly, as it was by the restrooms, but close to them if you had eaten from the food truck out front. She was rather fond of it.

                “Someone get Robards.”

                “Is Gawain in yet?”

                Harry and Ron threw her bewildered, sympathetic looks. She smiled for them and rounded the corner, only to find someone sitting in her chair, their feet on the desk.

                “Who are you?” she demanded.

                The wizard thumped his feet down hurriedly. “Sorry,” he said. “Who are you?”

                “I’m Tonks,” she said blankly, by way of explanation. “That’s my desk.” She pointed at a succulent. “That’s my plant! Her name is Sunshine!”

                Sunshine was looking a little tatty. She had lost one of her two yellow flowers that had looked like pigtails, but still looked incredibly vicious and spiny. She even halfheartedly shot a spine when Tonks’ finger came too close in her jab.

                A breathless witch stuck her head around the cubicle. “Hallo, Ny-er…Tonks. How are you?” Her sympathetic, long-suffering tone made Tonks want to scream. She knew that Pearl would want to ask her about Remus. And about Teddy.

                She forced herself to grin brightly. “Pearl Wiggenbottom, as I live and breathe.”

                She could feel Harry cough into his hand behind her. He had evidently recognized the multilayered peel of sarcasm that was passing poor Pearl right on by.

                “See…see…Robard said…you know with you being on leave and all….and there was a shortage of space…”

                “Have you met the new aurors, Pearl?” said Tonks with the same aggressively cheerful edge. “Ronald Weasley?”

                Pearl’s eyes goggled even as she automatically took Ron’s proffered hand.

                “And Harry Potter?”

                This time Pearl let out a little gurgle like a dying toad as she shook Harry’s hand. Her tone changed completely.

                “Oh, well,  _such_ an honor to meet you both.  _Such_ an honor! Your desks are all ready in the new section. If you could just follow me, it’d be  _such_  an honor to-“

                “Hang on,” said Ron angrily. “You’ve just said there’s not enough space.”

                “Yes, well – “

                “And Tonks has got some bloke sitting at her desk.”

                The bloke in question coughed a squeaky little grin. He was very young, and had dark eyes and bright teeth. “It’s Rook, actually. I-“

                “Shut up Rook,” said Tonks absently. “No one’s mad at  _you._ ”

                “Well, you didn’t give us any warning!” said Pearl defensively. “How were we to know that-“

                “Didn’t give you any warning?” said Ron loudly and angrily.

                Tonks could feel her heart sinking. She  _had_ reached out to a few people. She hadn’t known Robard well enough to –

                She had been pregnant with Teddy. She hadn’t been around much after Scrimgeur became Minister. Didn’t know the new department head very well. Only knew him in passing. There were a lot of aurors, after all. They had a whole class of them trained up every year.

                “My dad’s been telling Kinglsey – you know the  _Minister of Magic_  – over dinner about Tonks showing us around at work,” said Ron loudly. They were drawing an audience. This usually would have thrilled Pearl, but Tonks was almost sympathetic. She was mortified to think Ron had been discussing her with such admiration.

                She didn’t mind so much about Kingsley. He had been in the Order with her. He had requested a truly horrendously ugly hag’s face as dinner amusement. They had gotten drunk together, what with Sirius and Remus, one night after a bloody mission. Kingsley was all right, really. He just happened to accidentally end up as Minister. Could happen to anyone.

                Well not to  _her_. And evidently not to Pearl, who was gaping like a fish while Harry spoke.

                “Yeah, just give Tonks one of our desks. We can share a desk. We don’t mind.”

                “My dad had to share a desk with old Perkins for fifteen years before Perkins retired and dad was made head of-“

                “DetCo,” Rook interjected helpfully.

                This time Harry and Tonks said: “Shut up Rook,” with the same weary resignation in tandem.

                Rook looked abashed, but shut up. He cheered up immediately when Tonks held out a fist to bump, and nudged Harry to do the same. Rook looked like a kid on Christmas. Pearl looked like she had been sentenced to Azkaban.

                A purple paper airplane bumped Pearl in the head, and she snatched it from the air eagerly.

                “Mr. Robard would like to see you, Ms. Tonks,” she said relieved. “And for Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter,” she stumbled only slightly over their names, “I can show them to their desks.”

                Ron made a disbelieving face. “Yeah right.”

                “Pardon?”

                “I said  _yeah right_ ,” Ron said even more loudly.

                Harry pulled on his arm, fighting laughter, but he turned to Pearl. “We’re going with Tonks,” he said firmly. “We’ll tell Mr. Robard we don’t mind kipping at the same desk.”

                “Well I-“

                “Office still the same?” Tonks called over her shoulder as she marched forward, feeling strangely victorious and blazing, even after encountering so many obstacles.

                “Yes!” Rook shouted back.

                The three of them gave Rook the thumbs up, and Rook grinned ear to ear as he held both his hands back up in response.

                Gawain Robard was a small, fit man who greatly enjoyed his muggle wife’s hobby of  _jogging_. Tonks found it mystifying as Robard ran for hours at a time, covering twelve, thirteen miles. Tonks could barely walk a mile on the beach without getting cranky. Though she had to run for her job and enjoyed the chase, she had never understood the draw. Robard was a white man in his mid-fifties, grey haired pulling back from his forehead, and a slight build with too much of a nose for his narrow face. He wasn’t that much taller than Tonks, and Ron towered three heads above him when they shook hands.

                “Hello boys, welcome to the team.” Robard was cool-natured, friendly, and had a twisting, clever smile. He was good with numbers and figures, the natural choice for a department head. He was also very, very fast with his spells.

                “Thank you sir,” said Harry respectfully.

                “You’ll be sitting with the others in your class that passed.”

                “How many passed?” asked Ron anxiously.

                “The average amount.”

                Both of them looked at Tonks, who grinned lopsidedly. “He means 60%. That’s the average.”

                Ron shook his head, clearly trying to do the math in his head. “Bloody hell,” he said crossly, whether from the realization or the frustration. His ears went pink when he realized where he was.

                “I didn’t pass my first time,” said Robard, without a trace of embarrassment. “Doesn’t make you less of an auror. Just makes you a better student.”

                “Yes sir,” said Tonks, flushing under his gaze. She  _had_  passed her first time around, but it was a very, very thin sliver. 3% of a sliver.

                “And Nymphadora Tonks. I got a note from the Minister about you.”

                This time Tonks did not flush. She felt Ron and Harry radiating aggressive pride, even though they had clearly been dismissed to find their desks. They also apparently seemed scared for Robard, like Tonks might big

                “Yes sir.”

                “And there seems to be poor Rook at your desk.”

                “Yes sir.”

                “But she can have one of our desks sir,” said Ron valiantly interrupting. Gawain Robard wasn’t threatening. He was politely friendly. Tonks appreciated this about him. Scrimgeur was an old school sergeant. He wanted to scream at his aurors and fearmonger his respect. Robard was someone who could have been at a sandwich shop and politely asked about the cut of your robes. He didn’t need to flaunt his power; he already had it. And he knew it, Tonks knew it, and Ron and Harry knew it.

                He smiled at Ron. “Kind as that is, Mr. Weasley, I believe there are a few desks open in your section for those of your classmates who have’t passed.”

                Tonks felt herself stiffen, but she didn’t dare complain. She  _had_  been absent a year. First with Teddy, then with the aftermath of Remus. And it was July. Fresh meat season.

                Harry and Ron were grinning at each other, not understanding the hierarchy. Robard smiled at her discomfort.

                “We have decided, since the war,” and Tonks felt herself freeze with the admission at those lost, “to implement a new procedure. If it works, we will repeat the experiment.”

                She forced herself to meet his gaze. He was going to put her back in the Fresh Meat. She would be a grunt again. No more than she deserved, she guessed. But her victory was rapidly draining out of her, leaving squared shoulders tense and expectant. “Sir?”

                “You have been given a desk with your sponsors.”

                “My what?”

                “Your sponsors,” Robard repeated, smiling. “You’ll be the staff sponsor of the eleven new aurors.”

                “Staff sponsor?”

                “We’re calling you Sponz for short, you boys got that?”

                Harry and Ron straightened up, surprised at being addressed. They nodded quickly.

                “Sponz,” Harry grinned. “Sponz Tonks.”

                “Shut up.”

                “And do these boys know about the nicknames?”

                “Nicknames?” asked Harry cautiously.

                “You’re fresh meat,” grinned Tonks, feeling strangely buoyant. “It’s traditional everyone gets a meat-themed nickname for their first six months until the next A.C.A.T. class passes in December.”

                They both made faces at her.

                “I trust you can find your way?” Robard said pointedly. “Your desks will be labeled.”

                Tonks grinned at Harry and Ron as they left Robard’s office. They both gave her low high fives and bumped her shoulders, making her stagger. Her hair went as brilliantly purple maroon as her official uniform. She was suddenly very, very glad she word it if she was about to be introduced to fourteen other junior aurors.

                “Anyone in your class you wish made it?”

                “There were sixteen of us,” said Harry glancing at Ron. “But we only talked to about four or five.”

                “And they all passed,” said Ron quickly.

                “Well, you’ll tell me who’s all right?”

                “Course,” said Harry.

                Tonks knew where Fresh Meat sat. It was twenty or so empty desks, which would be reassigned to the new meat come January. All the new aurors would have picked up (or hoped to pick) a speciality to go work in, like inter-commerce espionage, petty bewitchments, or major blunders. Tonks was, of course, in major blunders. Everyone aspired to be. It was the real down-and-dirty dark wizard catching, not some idiot like Mundungus who knew his auror on petty bewitchments so well she sent him a Christmas card.

                Tonks was coming to regard major blunders as a well, major…on the nose remark of her life at the moment.

                The twenty desks in the Fresh Meat Area had been culled to exactly eleven: ten in neat rows of four, and her desk at the front, almost like a teacher in the classroom, but facing away from them, like a sergeant would. She felt herself swell with pride. She was too young to be a sergeant, she knew, and she had blown it with her year off, but she couldn’t help but feel this was something perfect.

                At the desks, eight wix were already seated. Including Harry and Ron, there were seven wizards. It was a male-dominated field, even now. There was one obviously andywix (e.g. androgynous by their hair and features, even in the tight uniform), and two other girls. Harry and Ron did not have desks together, as evidenced by the name plates. Tonks suspected that was on purpose. They were also two of the youngest there. Usually people took a few years to circle back around to auror training.

                “I’m your Meat Sponsor,” said Tonks, winking. “Name’s Tonks.”

                Two hands – the girls, predictably – went up. A loud, obnoxious male voice asked:

                “Aren’t you the one who was supposed to have died in the Battle of Hogwarts?”

                There was a scraping of a chair as Ron stood up aggressively.

                Harry was looking incredulously over his shoulder at the wizard speaking as if astonished as if anyone could be so stupid.

                It was true Tonks had heard a false report listing her among the names of the dead; it was only because she had been taken back to St. Mungo’s with Remus’ body. The error was fixed immediately. Tonks hadn’t realized it had circulated.

                “Do I look dead?” she asked, rather snappishly.

                “You do look a bit peaky,” smirked the wizard.

                Tonks knew without looking her hair changed back to brown by the immediate surprise of everyone involved.

                “What’s your name?” she asked the wizard.

                He grinned recklessly. “Why?”

                “Stand up,” said Tonks. Then glared at Ron. “And  _sit down_.”

                Ron sank into his seat, seething.

                “What’s your name?”

                “McClaggon. Cormac McClaggon.” Cormac McClaggon stood up. He was taller than Tonks.

                But not for long.

                Without breaking eye contact, Tonks rearranged her features to look like Cormac McClaggon. The rest of the Fresh Meat looked surprised but impressed.

                “Oh,” said Tonks, in McClaggon’s voice. “Aren’t I the one who was supposed to have failed the ACAT?”

                Everyone laughed, except McClaggon who went crimson.

                “Sit down,” Tonks snapped at him, her own voice coming from McClaggon’s chest.

                Everyone else laughed harder. McClaggon’s face was such a deep burgundy, it offset his uniform.

                “Your new name is McClagham,” she told him sweetly, snapping back into her own skin as she strolled to the front. “Fresh meat always get meat themed nicknames. You’ve had the pleasure of garnering the first one.”

                The rest of the meat went quiet.

                A passing auror perked up. “First nickname?”

                “McClag _ham,”_ Tonks said proudly. “For the coloring.”

                “Good one,” said the older auror approvingly. He was obviously trying to be kind when he clapped McClaggon on the shoulder. “I was called a ham name too. You’ll lose it when you earn your name back. Not so bad.”

                This auror had a large, porky build at odds with McClaggon’s muscular frame. McClaggon’s face darkened at the comparison.

                “Reports!” called a disembodied voice.

                Without warning, a stack of file folders materialized out of thin air and smacked the inbox on Tonks’ desk. She strolled up to it, picking up the first file.

                “Tentwhistle!” One of the female aurors stood up. “Present – er – “

                “Sponz,” supplied Ron.

                “Present Sponz,” said Tentwhistle, throwing Ron a grateful look.

                “Broom accident. Mid air collision. Healers are on the scene. How are your memory wipes?”

                “Excellent, Sponz!” said Tentwhistle, who was standing very straight, but Tonks could see her hands trembling.

                “Get to it then, you’d better get to the atrium before apparating.”

                Tentwhistle didn’t need to be told twice. She snatched the file from Tonks’ hands and hustled out.

                Tonks grabbed the next file. She smiled. “McClag _ham_.”

                McClaggon stood up, face burning, but did not respond.

                “Vandalism, Diagon Alley.”

                He took the file without complaint and followed Tentwhistle out.

                “Killick.” The other witch. “Pub brawl.”

                “Wacker. Traffic accident with a muggle.”

                “Kushner. Third floor robbery. Looks like it was enchanted.”

                “Weasley. Moving stolen goods.”

                “Thakkar.” The andywix. “Shoplifting.”

                “And Sparkes,” the last wizard left, who was almost – if not her own – age. “Joyriding an antiquated carpet.”

                Once the ten were passed out – and Tonks felt she had done it rather well, just as a real sergeant would have – she went to her own desk. With a loud smack, as if waiting, a fat file fell. It was a major blunder case. Attempted imperius. Tonks grinned.

                “Now that’s more like it.”


	7. Une Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit. It's finallllly getting warmer. The end of this chapter could have / future could go several ways. Reviews always welcome, on here or tumblr. Lots of love for you guys.

Tonks hadn’t expected to be the first one home, but finding both Bill and Fleur waiting expectantly for her by the fireplace in case she floo’d home (she didn’t), was oddly disconcerting.

“Hi,” she said uncomfortably. “Do we need to pick up Victoire and Teddy?”

“I did,” said Fleur, beaming. “Teddy is playing in his room. Victoire is ‘ere,” and she gently nudged the floating bassinet holding the three month old.

“Thank you,” said Tonks, when she floundered for anything else to say. “How did Teddy do?”

“He had a ball,” said Bill warmly, as Teddy came shrieking down the hallway at the sound of her voice and Bill caught him round the middle and dashed him into the air.

“Bah! Bah!” Teddy had begun to make sounds very like speaking. He knew a few words for things: baba for food; wawa for water; and the all-consuming: _no!_

“Bill!” chimed Tonks back at him. “Uncle Bill!”

“Beh!”

“Close!”

“Mama!” Teddy reached for Tonks, who swung him gratefully into her arms feeling smug and proud and special and silly all at once that she was so tickled at Teddy finally mastering the letter ‘m’ sometime in June.

“Did you have a good day at Grandmolly’s?” teased Tonks, and Teddy burbled in glee as she tickled him.

“Grandmolly?” asked Bill in amusement.

“Well Gran is my mom,” said Tonks defensively. “And, well, Remus’ parents are dead. And Molly is-“ she petered out, her exhaustion creeping up her spine and making her arms feel heavy. She wasn’t sure if it was the mention of her mother and Molly in the same sentence, or bringing up Remus, or merely losing the thread of an obvious parallel. She let Teddy down to the floor, where he sprinted away to find his toys to bring to show her.

“I like it,” said Fleur decisively. “Come, we ‘ave made dîner.”

“I’m not very hungry,” protested Tonks. “It’s too early.”

“With getting up so early, and not getting lunch-“

“You don’t know I didn’t get lunch,” argued Tonks with Bill.

“Ron told me you didn’t get lunch.”

“Ron was supposed to be investigating moving stolen goods.”

“Oh that was only Mundungus.”

“And where was Megan?”

“Who?”

“Dung’s usual auror in petty bewitchments.”

“Oh she was there but she let Ron do all the paperwork.”

“Bet he was thrilled.”

“He was, actually. Trying to do a good job.”

“Merlin. I was probably just like him.”

“Eager and optimistic?” teased Bill.

Tonks turned away, still smiling, as they got to the kitchen, and forced herself to hold her smile in place, where it hurt her cheeks.

“This looks great,” she said enthusiastically. It hurt coming out of her mouth too, and she hid her spiral by swooping Teddy into his high chair where he started crying because he wanted to continue playing with his unicorn and dragon figurines.

Over dinner, Tonks asked a lot of questions. Almost too many questions, edging out any attempt at conversation in order to hear about Fleur’s return to work. Fleur worked as a broker in the European markets. She handled multi-million galleon transactions over land, property, and contracts. She made Tonks feel about as interesting as a waystation apparition examiner with those wibbly wands they used at the front of the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry. Fleur was just too _much._ Too beautiful and charming and intelligent and talented and good at everything Tonks wasn’t. Tonks was –

Tonks was –

She _had_ been punk. She had been into music and ripped jeans and purple hair. And now she didn’t care at all. Three years ago. Before she had been dating Remus, when she was just twenty-four and in the Order, and hung out with Sirius and they talked about tattoos. She had thought about getting one, but had never had the time, and then Sirius was dead and she had fallen for Remus who looked so broken and crushed and _missing._

_Like you do now_ , said her mind snidely.

And she realized, with a swooping stomach, she hadn’t really known Remus at all. Not Remus like Sirius had known him. She never knew happy, best part of his life Remus. She only knew Remus in the _after_. Remus in the fog of grief and depression and confusion, and he had latched onto her like a mast in a storm, and she had beamed brightly, proud to be his lighthouse.

_And what are you now?_ She thought angrily. _You never loved Remus. You didn’t even_ know _Remus. That’s why your marriage never worked._

_Fuck._

_Our marriage never worked._

“Tonks?” It was Fleur. She had apparently ended her story and Tonks was staring blankly at her plate, twisting her fork, feeling the ripping pain pulling at her spine, hunching her over.

It took a Herculean effort to yank her eyes off her uneaten meal to Fleur’s dark blue eyes. The deep concern there was excruciating, so she flicked her eyes instead towards Bill. His scrutiny was so much worse. She turned bodily to Teddy, taking up her wand from the table to spell his messy face clean, happy to feed himself and fling the food around his general vicinity.

“What?” she asked casually. Tried to ask casually. Her voice sounded like nothing. Like a fuzzy radio on the wrong station.

“And ‘ow was your day?” Fleur repeated.

“Oh.” Tonks felt like she was back home, pretending Mum had all her hair and wasn’t a wraith wrapped up at the dinner table. She slouched just the same way in her chair, not looking at either of them. “It was fine.”

“Any good crimes?” asked Bill jovially.

Tonks half smiled for him, but stopped quickly watching their stricken faces. She remembered the way George had smiled for her, and she stopped trying.

“I’m really tired,” she didn’t lie. She _was_ really tired. Life seemed immeasurably long at the moment. “I think I might just go to bed.”

“It’s six thirty,” said Bill, not quite accusingly.

“No, Bill, let her go to ‘er room,” said Fleur airily. “If zat’s what she wants.”

“Thanks,” mumbled, standing up. She pulled Teddy from his high chair like he was a prop. She turned back halfway. “Dinner was good,” she said. She wasn’t sure if it was. She couldn’t even remember what they had eaten, despite it being out on the table.

She used Teddy as a shield for the next hour, reading to him quietly until he was sleepy, then putting him in the bath, which he loved – when he wanted to. After they were both thoroughly soaked, she wrapped him in a huge towel and rocked him to sleep on the edge of her bed, staring blankly straight ahead at a white wall for far too long after he had drifted off. Finally, she laid him down and spelled his pajamas and diaper onto him, carrying him to his crib and laying him on the mattress. There was a brief, terrible moment when she thought he’d wake back up as she half-dropped him the last inch, but he only turned over.

Tonks let her fingers guide her down the hallway. The house was very quiet, outside of the summer sunset outside of the windows, the crushing white noise of the water breaking wafted through the breeze spells into the house. She unfocused her eyes, the walls a white blur as she let her fingers bump down the long white wall full of pictures, not looking at Fred and George and Bill, and then turned into her room blindly, shutting the door behind her as she squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against it.

She didn’t know why she felt the immediate flight reaction to _run._ Although it wasn’t as panicky as the Burrow six weeks before, she realized she didn’t belong. She let this sink into her mind like a snowflake melting on her tongue as she leaned against the white door, her eyes tightly shut listening absently to try to pinpoint where Bill and Fleur were. _Probably having sex behind a sealed spell_ – she thought nastily. It was hard to ignore the obvious fact they were so in love. It hurt like they were mocking her with their marriage, though they had done nothing but show her every kindness.

Maybe that was what Shell Cottage had been for. Maybe it had been so she could get her feet under her. Take a break from her mother. Grow as a mother herself. Now she had overcome the first day of work, her brain was buzzing with tasks she had set up for tomorrow. The first horrible dreadful step hadn’t really been as bad as she had feared. And now she could leave.

Leave wasn’t the right word. Slink away maybe. Like something gross. Something dirty. Not something that belonged in the white house in a white room in a white bed. Not something that would leave a stain. Something like _her._

She opened her eyes to stare at her boots. She couldn’t believe she was still in her dumb auror uniform. It was so uncomfortable and so unflattering and so shiny and so _stupid_. The jacket was still in the living room, but she was wearing the calf high black boots, matte and shiny and unscuffed and perfect. And she could distantly see her wavering reflection in them, from such a great height, and she hated it.

She was such a fool. Such an imposter. So stupid to think she could come and pretend to be normal here. Come and _recover_ here. It was like she had told Bill. She was just _like_ this now.  This was life now. Forever. And it was awful and beige and unending, and it would have to be enough. Because she couldn’t leave Teddy alone. Couldn’t leave Mum. And she would just get better at hiding it. And when she thought of George in the smiling, moving photograph on the other side of this wall, she felt like an even bigger joke. She wasn’t even that sad. Not like George.

She bent to yank her boots off and something caught her eye. She glanced up, stumbling, open-mouthed.

Both Bill and Fleur were sitting on her bed, waiting quietly.

“Hi. Um. _What the fuck_.” Were the first three thoughts and phrases from brain to mouth without stopping for rational thought.

“I told you she would not like eet,” accused Fleur to Bill.

Bill only crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, settling more firmly into the white coverlet as if to say he’d wait forever.

Despite wearing a sleeveless, high collared, one-piece jumper in high boots and looking like an utter tit, Tonks seriously considered making a run for it.

Fleur seemed to guess her thoughts because quick spellwork sealed the room in a wash of blue light.

“Did you just seal yourselves in too?” Tonks accused.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” sniffed Fleur. “I will be able to leave if Victoire begins to cry. But she ees asleep, and so we ‘ave the time to talk.”

Tonks realized she was gripping her wand very tightly as ‘get bent’ in several varieties and languages flicked through her mind. French was foremost among them. She was no great shakes at the language – would never even let Bill or Fleur know she knew a trace of it when she heard Bill practicing – but she was very, very fluent in curses. Of both types.

“You’ve sealed us in,” said Tonks flatly. “Why?”

“Come sit down,” said Fleur.

Tonks, whose fight or flight instinct was weighted towards flight out of avoidance, felt her fight instinct ramp up. She was getting angry, and she was getting scared she was going to ruin any friendship she had. She had always had a bad temper as a child, but her mother getting sick had taught her to mind her tongue when it really counted. Because she could destroy people, if she wanted.

“When you live life as a human being,” her mother had told her in the icy silence after Tonks had said the worst thing she could have said: _I’m glad it’s you and not Dad._ “You will come to learn that no matter how much you _want_ to say certain things, you will never say them. Do you know why?”

Tonks, scared, miserable, horrified, angry, had shaken her head.

“Because at the end of the day, we are all still human beings. And we all deserve a little dignity. And I can’t control your thoughts any more than you can. But you can control your actions and control your words. Love means knowing someone’s greatest weakness and never, _ever_ exploiting it against them. And being loved in return is the trust that you would _never-_ “ but Andie hadn’t finished. She had started crying so hard she coughed herself into a spasm, and Ted had rushed in and Tonks was shoved out into the hall realizing in a swooping angry agony that she was an only child and she was fourteen and none of this was _fair_ and if Mum died there would just be her and Dad.

And the words Dad knew she had said.

So Tonks, while she was getting righteously angry at Bill and Fleur invading her privacy and looking so much more at home on the white comforter than she would, held the reins on her tongue. Because only by some hidden grace did Andie not die. And now Dad was dead. And they had never talked about it.

“I need to change,” she snapped to the room. “These boots are killing me.”

She waited for them to leave, and they both watched her. Bill’s jerky little hitch of his mouth was _exactly_ like Charlie’s was, and it made Tonks hate him so much in that moment for not just _being_ Charlie. Because Charlie just took her for who she was and didn’t try to fix her. He wasn’t embarrassed or weirded out when she got her first girlfriend after a string of boyfriends. Didn’t even blink an eye. And so when he had told her he never wanted anyone or anything, she had only kissed his cheek and teased: “Except me. As a best friend.” And he had actually cried because he had been so scared to tell her.

How dare Bill take that look too.

She only turned her back on them, ruffling through a deep bottomed drawer. It was full to bursting with all the clothes Fleur and she had bought together, and she ignored all of them feeling churlish but needy as she pulled out her softest, silliest shorts. They were a pair she and Charlie had made. They had each bought house sweat-shorts from the Quidditch pop up stand. They had used a severing charm to slice a leg off each and a switching spell to stitch them back up.

She spelled the big blue afghan from the bottom of the bed to hover in front of her as a screen for a modicum of privacy as she huffed out of her black boots and grimaced peeling off her body suit, drenched in a day’s sweat even just sitting. She drenched herself in a heated _aguamenti_ following closely with _tergeo_ to siphon the excess water from her hair and floor, then using one of Fleur’s tricks she had picked up to slather herself in lotion. It went on rather squelshily and unevenly and she blushed even as she pulled on an old and faded Weird Sisters shirt. She wiped the streamed makeup off her face with the heel of her hands, not caring overmuch as she dried her hair halfway with the hot air charm before she lost interest. She stepped out of her pile of dirty clothes and climbed onto the end of the bed, ignoring the way Bill and Fleur had angled themselves so that they might sit in a circle in favor for remaining as far away as it was mulishly possible to be.

“You could see through the knit of that blanket,” smiled Bill angelically.

“What!” yelped Tonks, crossing her arms defensively as Fleur smacked him.

“We did not look,” Fleur said loudly.

“I may have peeked,” winked Bill.

“You’re disgusting,” Tonks informed him coldly and the tension of breaking the ice, hoping to laugh, evaporated as she dropped her head in her hands.

“I’m only joking,” Bill said seriously after a moment. He and Fleur were talking wordlessly over her head again. “I wouldn’t.”

There was nothing to say but: “Thanks.”

“And now we are ‘ere,” said Fleur steadily.

“So?” said Tonks mulishly.

“Bad first day?” asked Bill lightly.

“No.”

“Good first day?”

“No.”

“First day?”

Tonks shrugged.

“Well this is going swimmingly,” Bill said brightly to Fleur. “I’m so glad we have a daughter to look forward to.”

“Shut up,” said Tonks, but without heart, scolded for her pettiness. She was acting like a teenager, she knew, but it was so damnably hard to talk about her feelings. “Okay _fine_ ,” she said. Not groaned. Of course.

“Fine?” asked Fleur, canting her head.

“I mean…whatever. Ask whatever.”

“Thanks,” said Bill dryly.

“What’s wrong?” Fleur asked on top of him.

“Not that,” said Tonks with a groan. “Anything but that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s so…big and dumb and confusing and I don’t even understand.”

“So what should we ask?”

“I don’t know. If I knew I would ask it and fix this!” Tonks said angrily.

They were both silent.

“How about,” said Bill slowly. “We ask you questions, and you answer them, and then you can ask us questions, and we’ll answer them.”

“Oh like a sleepover,” said Tonks sarcastically.

“Is that what girls do at sleepovers?” asked Bill, genuinely surprised.

Tonks had to crack a smile. “Did you think it was all pillow fights in our underwear?”

“No,” said Bill defensively. “But…I mean the only sleepovers I ever saw when I lived at home was when Ginny was six. I moved out that year.”

“Right.” Tonks had only sort of realized Bill was nine years Ginny’s senior. Because Bill was only two years older than Charlie – and Tonks herself – she often forgot that he was so much older than his siblings.

“Was it hard to leave? Being the oldest?”

“Some,” Bill admitted. “It felt like I wasn’t as much a part of the family.”

“We will not ‘ave seven children,” said Fleur severely, and they laughed, and Tonks felt herself sliding a bit towards their combined weight at the end of the bed and she tucked her hair anxiously, surprised to find it still damp.

“I can dry zat,” said Fleur, taking out her wand. “As you say, I am good with charms.”

“Thanks, I’m okay,” said Tonks automatically, cradling her hair to her neck and shivering.

“Why do you always refuse?” asked Bill, but not accusingly, more like he wanted to know.

“I don’t always refuse.”

“Come up here then.”

“N-“ she started, and then they all laughed again.

Tonks flushed, her hand still gripping her neck. “I…er…you can dry my hair,” she said to Fleur a little abashed.

Fleur fluffed out her hair with hot air, and to Tonks’ surprise as she closed her eyes a big arm snaked around her waist and hauled her up to the top of the bed to sit between Fleur and Bill.

She squeaked and immediately pulled her knees up, locking her arms beneath them, stiff and awkward as they sat on either side of her. She scrunched up her toes and looked at them instead, feeling stupid and trapped and duck-footed.

“We are not going to eat you,” said Fleur in annoyance, tossing her hair.

“Unless you’re into that,” said Bill with a raunchy wink.

Fleur laughed as Tonks unwillingly cracked a smile, staring at her knees.

“What is wrong?” asked Fleur, placing her hand on Tonks’ bare shoulder.

Tonks couldn’t help but flinch, and Fleur pulled her hand back as if she had burned her.

“Je suis désolé! Are you hurt?”

“No…no I’m fine.”

“Are we hurting you?” Bill asked again seriously, his hand hovering over her other shoulder.

For some reason, their concern and their closeness was closing up her throat and she shook her head furiously. “No…no. I’m…I’m fine.”

“Tonks…you are crying,” said Fleur quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Tonks sniffled miserably, wiping her eyes again with her hands. They were black with her smeared makeup.

“Does our closeness bother you?”

“It’s fine.”

“Tonks, seriously. Please tell us. We’ll back off. I can stand up. I-“

Tonks dropped her face in her knees. There was no way to confess this with eye contact: “No one…no one…”

They heard what she was trying to say. No one had touched her since Remus. Since the half-hugs at funerals. Since the joking, arm-flings of Charlie she ducked out of quickly.

“We aren’t hurting you,” Bill realized quietly. “You’re already hurting. Your skin…on fire.”

Tonks nodded and began to sob brokenly. She pitched left into the bed, but had forgotten Fleur was sitting there and so ended up in her lap. Fleur stroked her hair, which was mouse brown and perfectly fluffed and felt so… _human_ it only made Tonks sob harder.

She was afraid Teddy might hear, and she covered her mouth with a hand, but she needn’t have worried.

“Eet is sound-proofed,” Fleur murmured. “Eet is all right.”

“I’m sorry,” said Tonks wildly. “I’m so sorry.”

Bill, instead of contradicting her, had grown quiet and serious. “Why are you sorry?” he said, his voice low, as if she were an animal to spook.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Tonks said. “I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to make a fuss.”

“Is that why you hid in your mother’s house?”

“Mum has to love me…she’s…she’s…”

“Your mother,” said Fleur reassuringly, stroking Tonks’ hair. Tonks had stopped crying and was only shaking miserably, wishing she could pull herself together enough to slink away…and remembering she couldn’t.

“You were afraid if we got too close…we would see you.”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“And you think that we wouldn’t like you.”

“I don’t know,” said Tonks miserably, pushing herself up. “I don’t even…I don’t need you to like me. I don’t even know why I’m here. I don’t think you understood what you were getting into…you…you were just being nice and you ended up with…with…” She couldn’t finish, only crossed her legs and dropped her hands clenched together in her lap.

Bill put his arm around her shoulders. She physically swayed. She thought she might faint from the warmth. From the smell of him. From the very… _Remus_ feel of him. Whether it was the wolf. Or whether it was the man.

If he felt her shudder, he said nothing.

Fleur scooted further into her hip and threaded her arm under Tonks’ near her side, so that she couldn’t squeeze against herself.

“I thought…” Fleur murmured quietly. “When I thought Gabrielle had died…” she trailed off. To Tonks’ astonishment, huge fat tears hit the inside of her elbow, wending their way to the underside of her arm, tickling and painful and iridescent. When she glanced at Fleur in surprise, Fleur looked…more human. More human than Tonks had ever seen her. No Veela now. Just a girl. A girl younger than she was, and scared, and lonely, and twenty-five in a new country.

And Tonks loved her then. Not a creeping love, or a rushing love. Just a well being uncovered. Like finding an underground pool that had sprung from a leak in the roof, one drop at a time. One blue teacup and petty fight and cleaning charm and bright smile. One immutable shopping trip and steely glare and quiet moment hunched over the stove, begging to love her daughter.

It hurt Tonks so much she looked away, and saw Bill’s hand was resting on her leg, palm up. Waiting. It took every bit of her shaking strength to unhook her rigid shoulders and move a hand to his.

He squeezed.


End file.
